#I KNOW i know you guys r tired of me never posting finished art i get it. you're gonna have to suck it up ... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eternalbuckley · 1 month ago

Text

WHEN I TELL YOU... I RAN ONCE I SAW THAT YOU POSTED THIS AHH !!!!!!

i'm- i have no words, the capter was PERFECT. literallly perfection i swear. i don't full on cry very often while reading something but this entire chapter hit a nerve and made me really emotional. it was so so good. rue, the way how you're able to write and portray emotions is so wonderful, you're really able to feel what the characters feel in these moments, it's truly art and i'm so glad that everyone, including me, is able to read your works. i'm a real sucker for angst and this chapter is just wow. i love it so much and it's absolutely my favourite one. i'm not ready for the last chapter but i just know it will be sooo good. i still have so many thoughts about it but i cannot put them into words right now because i'm still sobbing but they're all good ones!!! 🤍 i'll go and finish crying now 🥹

some reactions of me while reading:

Maybe you will grow tired of whispering his name to yourself, but you have been doing this for the past four or five hours while sitting by the edge of the lake under the clear starry sky, shivering with each cold breeze.

i'm already tearing up and it's only the start of this chapter, someone please hug me.

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urges you, handing you the bottle before he lies on the grass, staring up at the sky as he waits for you to say something, “I know my brother’s an ass.”

aegon being there for clem?? yes please 🥺

“A good guy would never let his girl be insulted in front of everyone,” he scoffs, taking another swig from his bottle, “You didn’t deserve that, sorry on behalf of everyone, Clementine.”

CLEMENTINE OHHH???

“What?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes, totally surprised by how he knows the childhood nickname Aemond called you once, “How do you know that?” “Fuck me,” he groans, slapping his hand on his forehead, “You tellin’ me he doesn’t call you this to your face?”

OH MY GOD 😭😭

“Duh! Every fucking time!” He tells you as if he is surprised by your confusion, “Oh, man, my brother is such a dumbass. He can’t shut up about you! Every time he opens his mouth all we can hear is Clementine this Clementine that, it’s honestly so annoying! I can’t fucking stand how lovestruck he is—woah, okay, I shouldn’t—” He sits up immediately, reaching to squeeze your shoulder when he notices your eyes watering again, your arms tightening around your legs.

okay no that's it, i'm full on crying now

“What we’re not gonna do is excuse his actions,” he slaps the side of your hip with the back of his hand, “I meant what I said, he doesn’t shut up about you, but he’s also hesitant about everything! You, me, Vhagar, he can’t let himself get hurt again, even though he knows you’ll never leave him on your own record. He fears the thought of leaving you, so he left you first because it hurts him less to think he didn’t like you enough instead of you not liking him enough.”

my poor angel 😔😔😔

“Fucking hell, this guy is a twat I swear,” you laugh a little when Aegon fakes a cry, “Why can’t men be normal for a goddamn second?”

real

“I know you wanted to say give him a blow job, thank you for censoring your words,” you say, standing up before brushing the dirt off your dress, and handing Aegon his coat back. “Actually,” he holds his finger up, giving you a teasing smile, “I wanted to say that you should probably sit on his face so he won’t be able to talk.”

PLEEEEASE 😭😭😭😭

“Was she yours?” You look at him, sucking in a sharp breath when he turns around to look at you, his face red and cheek covered in dried tears, smiling sadly at you.

i'm afraid that my heart can't take this

“Don’t say that,” you swallow, frowning slightly as you reach to cup his cheek, turning his face to stare into his eye, “She’s much happier with you by her side, and I’m forever thankful for your existence.” “You’ll be much happier without me,” he rests his palm on your hand, kissing your thumb as he keeps his gaze locked onto you.

SHHH DON'T SAY SUCH THINGS SIR 😠😠 listen to your girl

“You deserve the fucking world,” he rests his forehead on yours, closing his eye as he lets himself get consumed by your touch, “I can’t give it to you. One day you’ll realize how damaged I am…”

i wish i could just give him a hug that never ends

“You mean everything to me,” he whispers, watching you stand up on shaky legs, brushing the straws off your dress as you try to keep yourself calm and collected, but the soreness in your eyes makes it harder. “And yet you didn’t say you love me back.”

i'm getting my tissues

“Babe,” Helaena notices you when you close the door behind you quietly, crossing the dining hall to pull you into a tight hug, shushing you as you let your sobs wreck your body without a care in this world, “I’m so sorry, beautiful, so so sorry.” “Hey…” Aegon appears beside you, rubbing your back while you bury your face in Hel’s neck, letting her calmness seep into your skin with each caress she leaves on your head.

i love them your honor

“We don’t even like that man! We fucking hate him in fact, so you better keep your shit away from us,” Aegon spits the words out, huffing when he sees Otto glaring at him, “Aemond was ridiculed tonight, at his own fucking birthday and all you care about is his reputation?”

we love big brothers who step up for their younger brother <3

“She’s been Helaena’s friend for so long, Father. Mind your words,” Gwayne interrupts him, crossing his arms as he keeps his eyes locked with his father. “Or what?” Otto spits the words out, his phone clutched in his hand tightly. “Or I will break your fucking neck.” You turn around as soon as you hear Aemond’s voice, clutching Helaena’s hand when he walks very slowly toward his grandfather with his hands behind his back, his head held high.

FUUUUCK YEAH THAT'S WhAT I LIKE YEEEEEEEEEeEEEEEEES

“You wouldn’t dare,” Otto replies, giving Aemond a challenging look, “You didn’t have the courage to open your eyes and see how your fiance was taking advantage of you, now you want to break my neck because I said the truth?” “No one disrespects my girlfriend, not even you,” Aemond stands in front of Otto, his glare unwavering, “She’s only two years older, doesn’t come from a rich family full of snakes, and most importantly, she cares about me. So yes, I would break your neck, because she is different from Alys and even I can see that with one eye.”

GET HIM AEMOND YES

“Hey you,” you greet him softly, watching him curiously as he takes a shaky step to the bed, slowly kneeling in front of you, taking the cream from your hands before he squeezes the tube on his palms, warming the cream before grabbing your ankle to gently apply it on the wounded skin.

always the caring man yup. where's my aemond

“I don’t need a break because I love you,” he looks up at you with the utmost adoration a human can ever possess, “I was a fucking idiot before for pushing you away, for doubting what we have, but I love you so much, my Clementine.”

MY CLEMENTINE???!!! ahhhh i just calmed down from my tears and now they're back 😩

“I saw nothing, it was all black,” he sniffles, one hand coming to rest on the back of your neck as soon as your forehead touches his, “My life doesn’t exist without you. There is no hope left for me if you are gone. I will perish and turn to ashes if I don’t get to hold you at night. I will burn by the humiliation and misery I created for myself because I believed you would leave me.”

my heart i—

“We’re okay,” you whisper, wishing to know if you will be able to hold and touch him like before, “We’ll be okay.” “We are okay,” he nods frantically, “I love you, my gorgeous girl. We’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.” “Neither will I,” you pull him into your arms, pressing his face to your neck as you sob, holding him close, breathing in his calming scent, “I won’t leave you, I will never put you through the pain you endured again.” “I won’t do that either,” he presses a kiss to your neck, brushing his nose against your earlobe, “You’re my everything, I love you.”

i'm dead, i'm not ready to say goodbye to them i—

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond's life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helena's childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who's always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Warnings: angggggst, angst, ANGST, no beta we die like Beesbury

Word count: 5k+

A/n: sooooo, thoughts pleaseeeee! I hope you like this chapter! omg we only have one chapter left from this series aaaaa🥹🥹 Comments and reblogs are appreciated<3

-> series masterlist <-

Chapter 9: don’t let me be misunderstood

Aemond.

It sounds more like a prayer rather than his name. Maybe you are praying to him to take mercy on you and walk back the path he took earlier.

You rock on your bottom like a child, holding your knees to your chest as you stare at the reflection of the moonlight on the edge of the water. At this point, your head is emptier than the shadow of a cloud, and you do not know whether the shadow will darken by snow or thunderstorms.

There is little to think about, or maybe too much given how much you have been mumbling to yourself. You thought about all the little things his family said; about you, about Alys, about him — Even the mere thought of him hurts your heart, the flesh ripping slowly as if he has chained your heart tightly, squeezing it tightly.

Shuddering, you look up as the leaves rustle by the cold breeze, creating a soft sound that ripples through the air. You rub your bare arms, cursing yourself for wearing such a beautiful dress for a birthday you were pretty sure it would turn into shambles, but at least you knew Aemond would like it — you do not know if he did or not.

“Hey, loner.”

You turn around, finding Aegon making himself comfortable next to you on the grass, a bottle of whiskey in his hand as he hands you his coat.

“Go on, I’m pretty numb now,” he says, dropping the fabric around your shoulders, nudging you by his elbow, taking a long sip from the amber liquid, “What a shit show, huh?”

“Yeah,” you reply, voice hoarse and raspy with all the crying you have done earlier, sighing loudly, “Yeah.”

“C’mon, talk to me,” he urges you, handing you the bottle before he lies on the grass, staring up at the sky as he waits for you to say something, “I know my brother’s an ass.”

“No, Aegon—“ you sniffle, turning around to look at him, “He is… he is just complicated. He is a good guy—“

“A good guy would never let his girl be insulted in front of everyone,” he scoffs, taking another swig from his bottle, “You didn’t deserve that, sorry on behalf of everyone, Clementine.”

“What?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes, totally surprised by how he knows the childhood nickname Aemond called you once, “How do you know that?”

“Fuck me,” he groans, slapping his hand on his forehead, “You tellin’ me he doesn’t call you this to your face?”

“No…?” You chuckle, resting your cheek on your knees as you smile softly at him, wiping the remaining tears away, “Does he do it a lot?”

“It’s not…” you take a deep breath, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks, “he was so lovely to me, I don’t know what happened but-but maybe I didn’t show him enough love, and reassure him—”

“You’ve got to be fucking kiddin’ me,” Aegon groans, dropping back down on the ground, “He fucked with you and you’re blaming yourself for it? Why the fuck would you do that? Are you a masochist or somethin’?”

“I’m not a fucking masochist, I just… I just love him so much! He thinks I will leave him too because everyone he’s ever loved once left him! Maybe I couldn’t show how much he meant to me, maybe I’m too weak to make sure he knows I love him and I’d rather die than let go of him.”

“Listen to me,” he urges you to lay down beside him, looking at the sky together as he continues talking, “Aemond is a really different man. He isn’t easy to love, hell, even Mum has issues with loving him—“

“That’s not making it any better, Aegon,” you glare at him, words falling from your lips coated in venom, “You’re telling me that even Alicent is hesitant to love him, and I’m supposed to just be okay with that? No wonder he chose to leave.”

“It doesn’t make any sense!” You drop your hands on the grass in defeat, “He’s overthinking this! I know he’s still dealing with the thought of his snake of an ex but… but he needs to let himself feel loved!”

“He does feel loved, and those words didn’t come from his heart. They came from the dark voices in his head, I bet he couldn’t even look at you when he left,” Aegon explains, turning his head to look at your face, “I think you should go find him, I’m pretty fucking sure he’s beating himself to death for doing this to you. But remember that he is the one who needs to apologize, not you.”

“You’re right, he let them call me poor and a gold digger,” you chuckle, sitting up as you speak, “Do you know he said that our relationship was ridiculous?”

“Fucking hell, this guy is a twat I swear,” you laugh a little when Aegon fakes a cry, “Why can’t men be normal for a goddamn second?”

“You realize you’re a man too, right?”

“Yeah, and do I look normal to you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, sitting up to give you a hug when you laugh, squeezing you into his arms before he lets go, “Give him a piece of your mind, okay? Make him regret it.”

“Fine,” you nod, trying to find enough courage to stand up and leave, but a heavy feeling grounds you, “I think… I think I’m afraid, Aegon.”

“Don’t be, he might seem intimidating but there’s nothing in his heart except the love he has for you. He’s just being a brat. Maybe slap him once or twice and he’ll be at your mercy completely.”

“I know you wanted to say give him a blow job, thank you for censoring your words,” you say, standing up before brushing the dirt off your dress, and handing Aegon his coat back.

“Actually,” he holds his finger up, giving you a teasing smile, “I wanted to say that you should probably sit on his face so he won’t be able to talk.”

“That’s your brother, you disgusting asshole,” you laugh softly, taking your heels in your hands as you walk barefoot in the path Aemond took earlier.

You remember how he would sneak away from dinners when he was a kid, running towards the empty stables with a book under his arm; it was one of the most exciting things for both of you when you searched for him all night, only to find him sitting on straws with a flashlight and his book.

Walking through the dark stables, you see only a few lights on, and your thoughts are confirmed when you slowly stand in front of the open door, finding Aemond sitting on the ground next to a seemingly sick horse, stroking its neck gently.

“They say she’ll die,” his voice comes out in a gentle tone, and for the second time tonight, your eyes fill with tears — the yearning makes your chest tighten, even if it has been only five or six hours since he left you.

You step inside the stall, cautious not to make any sounds to disturb the unconscious horse lying on the ground next to him as you slowly lower yourself next to him on the straws, your bare shoulders brushing against his arm.

“What’s wrong with her?” You ask quietly, trying to keep your tears away from streaming down your face; how can you survive when you hurt just by looking at his side profile?

“Old age,” he sighs, looking down at his lap, pressing his lips into a thin line, “It’s rare, but she’s been clinging to life for so long.”

“Was she yours?” You look at him, sucking in a sharp breath when he turns around to look at you, his face red and cheek covered in dried tears, smiling sadly at you.

“No,” he shakes his head and looks away from you, “She used to be Mum’s favorite. I remember when she would take us to different races with Uncle Gwayne, and tell us about how she was so close to becoming a champion herself with her.”

“Why couldn’t she do it?” You ask, reaching to hold his hand nervously, giving him enough time to pull away but when he doesn’t, you relax instantly.

“She got married,” his answer is curt, as if even the mere thought of his parents being together sours his mood, “Her marriage was the end of her dreams. Maybe she would be happier if she didn’t have us quite young, maybe we would be happier if we didn’t exist.”

“You’ll be much happier without me,” he rests his palm on your hand, kissing your thumb as he keeps his gaze locked onto you.

“That’s not for you to decide,” you caress his scarred cheek, trembling a bit as you feel the warmth radiating from his skin, “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, when I’m kissing you, when I’m holding you.”

“You don’t need to give me the world, Little nerd, you are my world,” finally the tears stream down your cheeks, soaking your face as you speak, “Don’t push me away, I’m begging you—“

“I’ll only hurt you, and you’ll leave me. Losing me would do less harm than being with me—“ his voice cracks, his hand moving towards your back, rubbing and memorizing every up and down of your waist.

“No, Aemond, no,” you shake your head frantically, sobs wrecking your body as you try to tell him how you feel, “Don’t give up on us! I’m sorry I couldn’t show you how much I love you, I’m sorry if I was not enough for you. But please, please, don’t let go of me!”

“Don’t cry, I can’t-I can’t bear to see you cry. I’d rather get stabbed to death than see your beautiful face covered in tears,” he begs, leaning down to kiss your tears away, “I’m not giving up on us, I…I’m just giving us a break so we can think. I’ve never been loved like you have shown me.”

“Then why?” You scream at him, fisting his shirt to pull him even closer, your nose brushing against his, “Why did you say we were ridiculous? Why did you not stand up for me when I was being humiliated by your family? If I’ve shown how deeply I’ve loved you, why does it feel like it’s not enough?”

“It’s more than enough, my gorgeous girl,” he kisses the bridge of your nose, and you feel his tears fall on your cheek. I’ve been taking you for granted. I…I can’t even defend you against them. I was paralyzed. I wanted to vanish and never be seen again, and now I see why. I’ve failed and hurt you so much, not thinking about how me leaving you alone might make you feel.”

“I love you, Aemond,” you say, words falling from your lips in a breathless whisper, “I love you, I love you— I can’t put into words how in love I am because every time I look at you I feel like I’m suffocating with the amount of affection I hold for you! I’m not good with words, Little nerd, but…but I know that being with you would hurt much less than me moving back to Beesbury knowing we aren’t going to make it.”

“I’m not giving up on us—I…” he sighs, gathering his thoughts as best as he can before he replies, but in truth, he is just as much of a mess as you are, “I need to think.”

“I love you, and even if we don’t make it, just know that you are the happiest most memorable experience of my life,” you lean up a little, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, “Aegon told me about the Clementine thing. I didn’t know you remember.”

“How can I ever forget?” he kisses you again, his heart tightening with each peck he leaves on your lips, “You were so chatty about your silly dreams, and I can’t forget Hel’s confused face when she mumbled about you dreaming of Tangerines.”

“There’s still hope for us, right?” You ask, shaking your head and sobbing when he pulls you into his embrace, holding you against his chest tightly.

“There’ll always be hope for us,” he mutters against your hair, his fingers holding onto your shoulders as if the subtle touch would ground him and not let him drown, “I just need to think.”

“Yeah, sure,” you pull away, wiping your tears before you give him a small smile, watching as the first rays of sunshine fall on the entrance of the stables, and you take it as your cue to leave him with the hope of kissing him again, “I’ll see you inside.”

“And yet you didn’t say you love me back.”

You leave with one last smile, walking barefoot towards the end of the pathway, heels clinking to each other as you swing them with your hand, biting your lip to stop yourself from falling apart.

The numbness comes back. You can feel how your body gets hollower with each step you take towards the door of the building. Your feet ache, and you know there will be bruises on them in a few hours.

The voices from the inside of the building grow louder, and when you step inside the hall, you find your best friend and her brothers trying to keep their Mother sane while their uncle argues with their grandfather.

“Hey…” Aegon appears beside you, rubbing your back while you bury your face in Hel’s neck, letting her calmness seep into your skin with each caress she leaves on your head.

“Where is Aemond?” Otto asks, his voice echoing in the hall, “He needs to get here and explain the mess he made.”

“What?” you whisper in disbelief, slowly removing yourself from Helaena as you look at him, “The mess Aemond made?”

“Father, please,” Alicent says, rubbing the skin of her neck with shaky hands, “It is not Aemond you should be angry at, nor it’s her mess.”

“We ought to be more careful than ever! Your boy has already ruined what we tried to build for so long when she decided to marry a woman nearly ten years older. After everything I have done, everything you have sacrificed, it should not be so hard to put a leash on him and make sure he doesn’t fuck around and make a fool out of us in front of Daemon!”

“What we built is gone, Father,” Alicent sighs, taking a large sip of whatever liquor is in the glass, “They have amazing lives, my children. They are happy at least, happier than me or Gwayne ever were.”

“Happiness won’t make their names pop inside their father’s will!”

“He is the only person who can change things but now, for getting into another miserable relationship with a nobody, he has lost the chance!”

“She’s been Helaena’s friend for so long, Father. Mind your words,” Gwayne interrupts him, crossing his arms as he keeps his eyes locked with his father.

“Or what?” Otto spits the words out, his phone clutched in his hand tightly.

“Or I will break your fucking neck.”

You turn around as soon as you hear Aemond’s voice, clutching Helaena’s hand when he walks very slowly toward his grandfather with his hands behind his back, his head held high.

“No one disrespects my girlfriend, not even you,” Aemond stands in front of Otto, his glare unwavering, “She’s only two years older, doesn’t come from a rich family full of snakes, and most importantly, she cares about me. So yes, I would break your neck, because she is different from Alys and even I can see that with one eye.”

“You are blinded by lust because you can’t fall in love in nearly three months after a failed marriage—”

“I swear I will strangle you to death—”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond grabs Otto’s collar, but luckily Gwayne is quick enough to reach them. You watch in terror as Alicent and Aegon try to separate Aemond from his grandfather while Gwayne holds Otto back. You can not see if Aemond is trying to hit him or not but even the idea of him getting hurt because of you makes you tear up.

“Aemond, enough!” you reach and wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him back with Aegon’s help, holding on to him tightly so he will not run off and punch Otto in the face, “Please, don’t give him another reason to lash out.”

“For fuck sake, Aemond, get a grip!” Daeron yells, and you see the sea of emotions in Aemond’s eye as he tries to fight off the anger in him.

“Me?” Aemond chuckles, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head in disbelief, “Me? I endured a night with the person who cut out my eye! I sat there and watched how they insulted someone I care about and couldn’t do anything to prevent it! I waited and took the humiliation on my birthday because I didn’t want to make someone else miserable by opening my mouth! Now you say I need to get a fucking grip? No, Daeron, it’s you, it’s all of you! You want to control my life but I won’t let you win this time.”

“It’s not about winning, Aemond—“

“We’re leaving,” he cuts off his mother’s sentence, grabbing your hand gently in his, threading his fingers through yours before he starts walking toward the door. You follow silently, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you let him guide you outside.

You walk hand in hand in tense silence as you walk towards the parking, finding the doorman running with Aemond’s car keys, handing them to him before he says a quick good morning. Aemond nods and leads you to his car, opening the door for you, and surprising you with a quick kiss on the crown of your head.

You give him a soft smile, sitting in the car and waiting for him to join you. The sunlight shines between the trees and warms your skin — grateful for the lack of roof of the car.

He starts the car, his lips pursed and a deep frown forms on his forehead as the sun shines on his face. He reaches for the dashboard and pulls his sunglasses out, putting them on before he twists the riding wheel, driving the car out of the parking lot to the main path.

You lean your head on the back of the seat watching the clouds move as Aemond speeds up. He shocks you by resting his hand on your thighs, gently caressing the bare skin through the slit of your dress.

You turn your head to look at him, noticing his stiff shoulders. He is battling for peace in his mind, you are sure. Maybe he feels guilty about how he treated you, maybe he just wants out from his family.

He sighs, his thumb moving up and down the flesh of your thigh, enjoying the warmth you provide him with. You rest your hand on his, caressing the blue veins under his skin with the tip of your nail, skimming your finger over his knuckles gently.

You do not realize how much time has passed, but when you wake up, the Targaryen mansion comes into view, and you find Aemond pushing his sunglasses up on his head as he drives the car through the opening gates, looking stressed and confused from all the things that were said during the past few hours.

“We’re here,” he tells you softly, getting out of the car with ease before he walks and helps you out of the car as well, guiding you inside the mansion by his palm on the small of your back.

“Good morning, sir,” one of the house holders says, and Aemond nods at her, “Would you like to have breakfast here or on the balcony?”

“I’m not hungry, but she might be,” he answers stoically, turning his head to look at you, but his face softens slightly when he notices your disappointment written all over your face.

“I’d love to have breakfast on the balcony, please,” you let go of Aemond’s hand, smiling at the householder as she nods and smiles back, leaving the two of you alone to take your breakfast to the balcony.

“I need some time to think,” Aemond whispers, looking down at his shoes as he rocks on the balls of his feet, “I’m sorry I dragged you here, but I… I need to get my thoughts together, and couldn’t just leave you alone with them. I need a break.”

“It’s okay, I’m around if you need me,” you sigh, walking away from him upstairs towards where the balcony is, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Your day is dull, your mind is even worse. You had your breakfast with a bitterness you had no idea you possessed whilst you thought about Aemond, wondering what he was thinking about — probably the chaos that his family created and left the two of you dealing with the ruins of it later.

You tried to make yourself busy with doing whatever came to your mind; a long walk to the Weirwood tree and back, wandering around the mansion in hopes of finding something interesting, skipping meals, and snacking on fruit. But nothing seemed to make the gaping hole in your chest go away nor did they help with the dark thoughts that came into your head.

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, you regret taking a long walk; Your feet are bruised and you notice a few painful blisters on the side of your feet, hissing as you apply a healing cream on the skin.

A knock brings you out of your thoughts, and before you can answer, you see Aemond pushing the door open, standing in front of you with tears stinging his eye. He has taken off his clothes from last night, now he is only in an old t-shirt with sweatpants.

“How did you hurt yourself?” His voice is barely above whispering as he kisses your shin, closing his eye when he hears your hisses in pain.

“I…I walked barefoot to the stables this morning,” you explain, eyes casted away from him, trying to escape from his intense gaze, “And I took a long walk a few hours ago.”

“You shouldn’t be so careless,” he rests your foot down, grabbing the other one in his warm hands as he speaks, “You need to take better of yourself or you’ll get hurt.”

“You’re doing a fine job in hurting me and taking care of me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes when his eye falls on your face.

“And I’m sorry for that.”

Your head snaps in his direction when you hear the tremble in his voice, lips parting in surprise as you look at his teary eye, his cheek pressed against your leg as he looks at you — his gaze is so intense to the point of melting you in place.

“I…” he starts, resting his forehead on your knee, “I don’t need a break.”

“Aemond, you need some time—“

Your lips quiver, and with a shaky hand, you reach down to cup his face, caressing his cheek as the tears fall on your fingers softly.

“I love you in a way I never thought I would,” he closes his eye, leaning his head into your palm, “I imagine my life without you in it, without your voice, without your smile, w-without you calling me that stupid nickname. Do you know what I saw?”

At this point, you are both crying, and with every word that slips past his lips you lean closer to take a good look at the desperation in his face, the longing, the love.

“Oh, my love,” you cry, pulling him up just a little so you can reach his lips easier, pressing a quick kiss, “Are you sure you’re not saying these because you feel defeated?”

“I’m sorry for directing my anger at you, I’m sorry for not voicing my love sooner. I was scared, fucking hell, I am scared because this is… this is not even near half of what I felt for anyone in my life; it’s blinding, it makes me bleed with need for you. All I’m asking is for you to accept my apology and take me back.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask, his lips hovering above yours, and you see him smile sadly, his large hand coming up to rest against your wet cheek.

“Then I will try to cope—“

“I’m not giving up on us,” you cut him off, shaking your head as you wrap your arms around his neck, “We will get through this together. We will talk, we will fight, but I won’t ever let go of you. There’ll always be hope for us.”

“I’m so fucking sorry for saying what I said,” he bites his lip to keep his composure, but his vision is blurry with unshed tears, “I’m not giving up on you, I promise.”

“I won’t either because I love you.”

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips, sealing his words with a deep quick kiss, “I love you, I love you—“

You press your lips to his, tasting his salty tears as they mix with yours, moving in sync while you explore each other's mouth after the chaos that pulled you apart.

“We’re okay,” you whisper, wishing to know if you will be able to hold and touch him like before, “We’ll be okay.”

“We are okay,” he nods frantically, “I love you, my gorgeous girl. We’ll be okay. I won’t leave you.”

“Neither will I,” you pull him into your arms, pressing his face to your neck as you sob, holding him close, breathing in his calming scent, “I won’t leave you, I will never put you through the pain you endured again.”

“I won’t do that either,” he presses a kiss to your neck, brushing his nose against your earlobe, “You’re my everything, I love you.”

#⚘; — my recs ✧♡#hands down the best chapter in the entire series #i'm emotional #i'll go cry a bit more now

310 notes · View notes

queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy @namelesslosers @littlewhiterose @ttzamara @ttzamara @cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

204 notes · View notes

hanii-rose · 4 years ago

Note

Hi there! I would first like to say I’m a huge fan of both your art and your writing~ your posts make my brain release the happy chemicals ♡

If it’s ok I was wondering if I could request Garou with a shy s/o who works up the courage to surprise him by wearing lingerie?? (〃ω〃) only if you want to tho of course

tysm, ily!

✯Lingerie Fever✯

Garou × Fem!Reader

You stood in front of the pristine glass window of the only adult shop in your district, wishfully eyeing the beautifully assorted contents on the other side of it. The pretty little store mannequins stood proudly, in poses you could never pull off, wearing provocative attire, some adorning cuter variations while others had more sexy designs.

This whole situation was strange. People passed by behind you giving you strange looks as you wiggled anxiously near the store window.

You were too occupied to notice their stares, too invested in your own thoughts to care about your surroundings.

Your lover, Garou was out at work, earning a living for the two of you which left you home alone. With nothing to do but watch mindless television, you had opted to go for a little outing.

•••

You had gained an interest in intimate apparel on a lazy Monday, after your boyfriend had left for work and you stumbled upon a romantic advice blog while leisurely surfing the web on your laptop.

'How to Make Your Boyfriend the Happiest in the World!'

Having nothing interesting to do, you clicked on the link, intrigued by the title. The first few tips it gave were fairly ordinary.

'You can only touch a man's heart through his stomach!' or 'Men love complements on their hair and outfit'. Nothing too surprising came up, until you had reached the absolute end of the blog. Suddenly, you found yourself flustered at the blush inducing words on your screen.

'A man cannot resist a woman in erotic attire...'

That last little tip had sent you into a shameless daydream as you thought about it more and more. You? Dress up in sexy clothes for Garou? Was the room getting hotter or were you just overheating?

But the more you pondered on the shameless idea, the more it started to occur to you that the only time you ever dressed up for him was on Valentine's Day and even then it was just a cute dress or a pretty frock.

But nothing sexy...

•••

You squinted and stuck your tongue out, trying to read the price tags from outside of the store but had no luck. The numbers were way too small.

A clerk, while dusting inside the shop noticed your strange behaviour and ran over to open up the door. She watched you peculiarly for a few seconds before speaking.

"Uh ma'am, if you're looking for a set you should come inside. We have a lot to choose from!"

You jumped in surprise and frantically waved your hands in front of you, blabbing out no's.

"Ack- I uh, no no. It's ok! I was just looking!"

The shop lady smiled and gestured for you to head inside with her. Her brown bob bounced as she jovially explained.

"If you were looking, you were obviously interested. Come in and I'll show you some that'll really suit you!"

You gulped and hesitantly nodded, following the saleswoman into the store. Walking through the doors, your eyes landed on the exquisite bras and panties. You gasped quietly, unable to comprehend the sheer erotic beauty of all of them.

"A-a-are these...real?"

The woman chuckled at you, her hand coming up to stifle the noise.

"What a silly question! Of course they're real."

You scratched your neck, embarrassed at your naivety and lack of knowledge about erotic clothing.

"What's your name?"

You blinked a few times and shyly answered.

"O-oh, I'm Y/N."

"Well Y/N, how about you take a look around. I'll be right here behind the counter waiting for you when you're finished."

You shyly nodded, flashing her a small smile.

You took a deep breath, making up your mind.

'Ok Y/N! No more shyness! Just choose one you like! Garou will love it too...right?'

You shook your head and continued to observe the clothes.

A tall skinny mannequin with her hand on her hip, wore a black, lacy set, crotchless and sexy. A bit too sexy for you...

The one next to it, a shorter bustier dummy adorned a pink satin nightie, white lace around the edges but showed off too much cleavage at first glance. Whoa, that's a lot of exposure!

Another one that caught your eye stood in the middle of the room, a spotlight highlighting it's intricate features, obviously the most beautiful one in the store.

An adorable white baby doll two piece, satin bows and tulle flowers lined the tips, strings to tighten and loosen twisted up the front. Two innocent little ruffle crew socks came with the stunning set, perfecting it.

Your eyes sparkled in awe, your brain screamed 'this is the one!'

Your mouth agape, you eyed the pretty mannequin, looking for a price.

"This is your first time buying, isn't it?"

You broke out of your trance, turning to look at the saleswoman with a sheepish grin.

"Y-yes. I've never really had the um... interest in these sorts of things..."

"Ah, I see. Well, did you find the one you want?"

You nodded your head, avoiding eye contact with her.

You hesitantly pointed to the one you liked and spoke.

"I r-really liked that one. Is there one in m-my s-size?"

You could barely speak without stuttering, much too shy.

"Of course. You have good taste for a first-timer. It's pricey but worth it."

You took a deep breath and shakily asked for the price.

"That one's our latest model, inported all the way from (foreign country). It costs more than most of the other ones here."

You took in the information, still curious to see if you could afford it.

"It's 12000 yen. But I assure you, the price isn't the only thing that's high quality."

You slumped your shoulders, already defeated at hearing the cost of the pair.

"I-its so much for a bra and underwear..."

You whined quietly to yourself, dejected. Who would carry around so much money. You'd have to hit up an ATM somewhere, but the nearest one was four blocks away.

The day wasn't getting any brighter either and you'd have to be home before Garou to avoid any awkward questions about your whereabouts.

You sighed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"C-can I come back for this one next week?"

You bashfully played with your fingers while asking.

"Well, it's an exquisite piece, I'm not sure if I can hold it off for you for more than a day or two..."

She apologized but you assured her it was not an issue. Looks like you'd have to buy it earlier and hide it in your shared closet, at least until the time was right.

You had returned home a while back, changed into one of Garou's white t-shirts and began preparing for dinner. Garou had come home not long after you, completely oblivious to your little outing. You had decided against telling him, it would only lead to unwanted questions.

While stirring the curry pot, your thoughts went back to that stunning piece that awaited you in that lingerie store. It was so pretty, you wanted it now. Not just for Garou but for yourself as well.

As of now, Garou rested peacefully in your bedroom, so very tired from working so hard. He's the sweetest guy you'd ever met, well after you had gotten to know him.

To others he might look like a brute, scary and standoffish, but to you...

He was perfect. Flawed, but perfect.

Putting the lid back on and turning off the stove, you quietly made your way to where Garou slept, tip-toeing over and standing next to where he snored.

He looked so relaxed, it almost made you want to curl up next to him, but then nobody would eat that amazing beef curry you had prepared. You'd have to wake him up, you almost felt bad.

Nudging his shoulder with your hand, you tried pushing him to stir him out of sleep but he stayed snoring, turning around and hiding his face with his arm.

You internally groaned. This time you tried quietly whispering him awake.

"G-Garou... Garou, wake up."

He whined ruggedly, and shifted again turning back to you, still asleep.

"Don't you want dinner?"

He sleepily shook his head, too tired to verbally respond.

You rubbed your face with your palms aggressively. He's just so cute!

You looked at him with adoration, a gentle smile gracing your lips. He's not waking up anytime soon, might as well give him a little kiss.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you lowered your head downwards and placed a sweet peck on his cheek, giggling to yourself as you rushed to the kitchen to set the table and let your boyfriend sleep for a few more minutes.

You took out the silver forks and spoons, washing them and readying them to place on the dinner table next to the served plates of curry and rice.

"All this time we've been together and all ya' give me is a kiss on the cheek?"

Came a familiar voice, deeper than normal.

"O-oh, Garou! You surprised me..."

You whispered shyly, clutching the silverware closer to your chest.

"D-dinner, I mean... I made curry for dinner."

"Sit, I'll get you a glass of water..."

Garou seated himself down onto his usual chair and waited for you to completely get the table ready.

"That colour. It looks good on ya'..."

After shakily pouring water into Garou's jug and your cup, you finally took a seat, straightening yourself out.

"Thank you, Garou..."

You thanked, happy that he thought you were appealing.

"How was work?"

Garou shrugged, same old, same old.

"And you? What'd you do?"

You played with your food, pushing the curry around with your spoon, cutely shrugging, not speaking one bit.

"Yer' actin' awfully weird. Somethin' wrong?"

You shook your head and gulped nervously, shifting your line of sight from his face to your plate. Clearing your throat, you took a large spoonful and chewed, trying to avoid answering his question.

"Yer' so cute..."

Garou's voice retained its deep pitch, possibly becoming even lower than before.

"Ya' know, I just woke up so I ain't fallin' asleep anytime soon..."

You swallowed the mouthful and tilted your head, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

Garou raised a brow, smirking.

"We could..."

...

After the realization of what he actually meant hit you, you snorted while taking a sip from your cup, falling into a coughing fit in your seat. As soon as the coughing stopped, you spoke, surprised at his suggestion.

"W-what? I-ok, uh..."

"We don't need'ta if ya' dont wanna..."

You calmly shook your head and reached over the table, placing your petite hand over his.

"N-no, I mean we can... that sounds, that sounds good..."

You bashfully confirmed, smiling, avoiding his gaze.

"Well then, start chewin' faster cus' once I'm done, there won't be any time to finish yer' food..."

Your flushed, your body becoming hot as you fidgeted in your seat.

You took a deep breath of air before pushing open the glass doors, entering the building.

That morning, after Garou had gone off to work, you picked up your keys and your purse, running to the bank to withdraw just enough money for the lingerie piece you liked.

Today, you were going to buy it!

You had been prepping yourself up for it since last night, thinking about how much better the night would've been if you had worn something like that. Not that it wasn't amazing without it, it was. With Garou, it always was, but you wanted to contribute to his pleasure too!

You spotted the woman from before and slowly walked up to her, tapping her on the shoulder.

She looked up from her leaning position over the cash counter, took out her earbuds and cast you a knowing look.

"So, you're here for the set I presume?"

Nodding, you fidgeted, shyly smiling in excitement.

"Thought so..."

The woman led you to the changing rooms and you followed.

"So your partner, what're they like?"

"W-well, he's very strong and cool..."

You shyly twirled your hair, while walking, going deeper into the store.

"And...he's really handsome and c-cute."

"He's also smart... sometimes..."

The saleswoman chuckled and halted in front of the changing room door.

"Sounds like a catch."

You chuckled softly. Yes, yes he is.

"I'll bring some sizes and colors over, tell me which one fits best and we'll pack it up, kay'?"

"Thank you. You're so kind..."

"Don't mention it."

The woman promptly left to go fetch you every variation of the babydoll set, and you excitedly tried on each one.

After going through what seemed like thirty different colours of the same piece, you finally found one that suit you just right, and it was in a colour Garou actually appreciated you in.

You absolutely loved it!

You stood near the register, happily paying for the lingerie. The woman proceeded to securely pack it for you, chuckling at your eagerness.

"Stay confident in this piece, it really suits you!"

She pumped you up, giving you a boost of confidence that you really needed. This feeling was so amazing, like nothing could ruin your day!

It was so empowering!

Is this how men feel?

Vigorously bowing, you thanked her for her service and enthusiastically pushed open the shop doors, exiting the establishment.

A couple of days had passed since you had purchased the fine piece of clothing, hiding it meticulously at the very back of your closet, where Garou could never find it.

You contemplated whether tonight was an appropriate time to wear it. It was a glorious Sunday and Garou had come home an hour ago from mingling among his colleagues. The boys had held some get-together today and he was invited, acting as if it was something dreadful but secretly, you knew he was excited to have friends.

Garou laid under you on the bed, sprawled out, taking up most of it. You laid on top of his chest facing him, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you flush against him.

"Garou, did you have fun with your friends today?"

He gave a single affirmative nod.

"What did you guys do?"

He shrugged, explaining bluntly.

"Sat around with a case of cola at the bridge..."

"Had a drinking contest, which I won."

Obviously.

"No one can finish five cokes in ten seconds like you can."

You could feel Garou smirking as his arm around your waist got tighter and his free hand came to squeeze your cheek.

"You know it, sweetheart..."

He left an airy kiss at your temple and you happily wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I missed you a lot today."

You sheepishly admitted, burying your face into his chest, revelling in his scent.

"I couldn't stop thinkin' about ya' either..."

✯✯✯

You lifted your head to face him, interested in what he had to say.

"Believe me when I say I was itchin' to come home..."

Oh, his voice just lowered in tone. You gulped.

"All I could think about was you under me."

"Y-you're just saying that!"

Garou chuckled, his chest shaking under you as he did so.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you like teasing me!"

He snickered, pulling you into a make-out session, tongue and all.

Before things could get too heated, you sat upright on his belly, hands pushing on his chest to keep him down.

Now would be the perfect time to show him the lingerie...

"What's wrong! Not feelin' it today?"

You shook your head and carefully got off of him. You opened up your wooden closet, slipping out the plastic bag that contained the special clothes.

Garou quirked a scruffy brow, confusion evident on his chiseled face.

"What the hell are ya' doin?"

You didn't answer. He'll find out soon enough.

"W-wait here, please..."

Garou obeyed your timid command and waited, sitting up at the edge of the bed, hunched over.

A considerable amount of time had passed and Garou pondered on whether to go look for you. What's takin' so long? Did you faint or somethin'?

You stood in your bathroom, adorning the dazzling lingerie, checking yourself out in the tall standing mirror. You thought you looked pretty good. You hoped Garou would appreciate you too...

Heaving out a nervous sigh, you anxiously strode back to your bedroom, stopping in front of the doorframe.

Garou heard your shuffling footsteps and looked up, eyes going from bored to shocked in a matter of seconds.

"Wha-what's all this?"

His voice sounded light, fluttering almost. His eyes stayed wide and shimmering and mouth hung open. Garou's cheeks began turning warmer, a darker shade than usual, catching your eye.

You shyly fidgeted near the door, fingers nervously twiddling in front of you.

A smile graced your features and Garou outstretched a hand and you placed your palm in his. He pulled you closer to him to see everything in better detail. You stood in front of his seated form holding his hand.

"I, I thought you'd like it so I..."

You murmured softly, glancing at his face to see his reaction.

"Yeah, I do. Ya' look...."

He bit his lip, looking you up and down. His free hand circled your hip, admiring the intricate lace that hung around your panties.

"...I can't say."

His hand glided over your stomach, fingers wrapping around the cup of your designer bra.

"Feels so good to touch."

You turned warmer, shuddering at his fluttering brushes.

"I-I want you t-to touch me..."

A meek sigh left your lips as he squeezed and rubbed your breast, his other hand keeping you still by your thigh.

"C'mere."

You gently sat down next to him, the mattress springing as you did. Bringing your fingers to his lips, he kept his nose pressed against them.

"This is a dream..."

"Yer' a dream..."

Garou's eyes watched as the netted flowers at the edge of your bra tickled your skin. He observed curiously, your movement, the shudders and mewls as he held your shoulder closer to him, squeezing and massaging your chest.

Your own fingers glazed over his semi-erect bulge and Garou groaned in satisfaction.

"It's been so long since we last did it..."

His statement prompted a chuckle and you replied.

"It's only been a few days..."

Garou's cheeks darkened even more and he wittily responded to your claim.

"A few days too many."

He kissed your neck, slowly trailing downwards until he reached your exposed shoulders, nipping at the soft flesh.

"Yer' too much for me."

He expressed everything lightly, his voice a mere whisper in your ears.

But, as if a switch had been flipped, his personality suddenly no longer remained tooth-rottingly sweet. Instead, emerged a growl from his throat, after which he let the most obscene words leave his mouth.

"Yer' tits look so good that way..."

He kissed the exposed surface of your breast, his eyes immediately darting to yours to capture your reaction.

You sighed in pleasure, his kisses and touches becoming more lewd each second.

Now, he sounded serious and much more domineering.

"Damn, those panties are too small for yer' ass!"

You took everything with humility, accepting his shameless complements.

It wasn't until his last statement that you felt really embarrassed.

His voice commanded you, instructed you deeply and slowly.

"Now, get on that bad and don't move until I get back with the camera..."

✯✯✯

Safe to say, Garou was really pleased with you that night. The two of you had gone at it till the break of dawn and now laid peacefully in each others embrace. Garou had stopped at nothing last night, having you so close in the clothes you were wearing just for him.

He had thought you looked absolutely ethereal in that babydoll piece, looking so innocently sexy. It was enough to keep him going for hours without end.

The two of you had definitely explored each others intimacy that night, broke some limits but enjoyed each other nonetheless.

After that experience, Garou demanded more and you happily provided. He couldn't get enough of you.

••End••

Bonus:

Garou carefully eyed the extravagant sets of garments lined up in front of him, some bolder and some more modest, all with different patterns and sizes. Holding a plastic bag containing your tasteful set of lingerie, he treaded deeper into the shop to look for a new one for you.

He wondered which one would suit you, pondering on the idea that you would want a sexier variation this time.

The establishment he walked through was the only one in his city, a rather renowned one at that. He didn't even know a store like this existed where he lived.

For now, he remained confused on which one he should get. They all seemed good and he thought virtually anything looked good on you. He was so lost in thought, it took him a while to notice someone had tapped him on the shoulder.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

A saleswoman stood behind him, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, got anything like this but in this exact size?"

She asked him familiar questions about his lover and he answered shortly, somewhat annoyed at her prying.

The woman smirked, showing him almost all of the lingerie that the store had, especially the ones that would look good on you.

By the time Garou was done looking through everything, he had already found one he really liked and was in the process of purchasing it at the front desk.

The same woman kept a constant smirk on her face while scanning, removing the tags and packing the clothes up.

Garou hurriedly thanked her and pushed open the front door of the store, ready to depart.

Just then, a voice from behind him spoke out, making him turn his head with surprised eyes and a pretty pink blush on his cheeks.

"Say hello to Y/N for me!"

_________________________________________

Ahhh, finally it's out. Now, I sleep. Nah jk I have other ones to finish ಥ‿ಥ

#garou #garouonepunchman #opm garou #garou x reader #garou x fem reader #female reader #garou x s/o #s/o wears lingerie #reader wears lingerie #shy reader #shy s/o #garou x shy reader #garou x shy s/o

300 notes · View notes

starlight-thoughts-ao3 · 3 years ago

Text

Handle With Care

Summary: For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

TW: Nothing, so far as I’m aware. Let me know if you disagree.

Notes: This is part me being poetic and pretentious and part me being unable to get the image of Natasha dancing for Tony out of my head. I just, their relationship in the MCU is one I find fascinating. The "I should not care about you, but I can't help it" on both ends of that is something I can't help but play around with, and I've been toying with this fic for months and I'm not entirely happy with it, but I have it written so here. Cross-posted on AO3.

Human beings like to tell themselves such pretty lies. Things will get better. Everything happens for a reason. Love always wins. We tell ourselves stories where the good guys win and the bad guys get put away behind bars because we can't cope with the concept that sometimes, life just doesn't care. Tony Stark was born into a world that would always know his name, though not for the reasons he'd wish they would. Such careful manipulation of the facts made sure that no one would ever think that the man who was known as the Merchant of Death was so full of life and energy he was drowning in it. He poured all his passion into things he'd never publicize but they were his children; they were made of metal and code, but they were real and he loved them enough to hide them away from prying eyes. Act like you don't care about anything or anyone long enough and eventually, people stop caring about you.

Tony Stark was born a disappointment, and he learned early on that he'd be allowed more freedom if he didn't even try to change their minds. So he wore a mask made of recklessness and failure and watched as the world forgot that he was brilliant. The problem with masks is that some people will see them and decide it's far more interesting to see what they're hiding.

James Rhodes watched as the boy who was way too young to be sitting in the college lab twisted lines of code into a simple, but charming, personality like it was magic, then build it a body, sketching designs for the robotic arm over the blueprints his father wanted him to look over, just to see if his son had a mind for weapons as he did. James watched as Tony fixed all the issues his father's designs had, then go back to creating life like it was nothing special. James watched as his best friend was told his parents were dead and he watched as Tony shut himself off from the world and created JARVIS. It would occur to him later that AI was the first bit of armor Tony built.

Virginia Potts was the most terrifyingly competent person Tony had ever had the pleasure of being yelled at by. He had stumbled into her -- literally -- one night while leaving the R&D offices and she had given him hell for it, all while towering over him in her high heels, not a hair out of place. Her fury mixed with her composure startled a genuine laugh out of him. He promoted her on the spot. He liked the way she treated him as human, instead of a toy or a trophy. Things were easier with her at his side. The world didn't seem as overwhelming when she was there to take care of the practical things. She didn't judge him for having his head in the clouds, she just tied a string around his wrist and guided him like a balloon while she stayed firmly on the ground. It had taken him much too long to realize that there wasn't enough money in the world to keep someone with him, so her continued presence in his life had to be because she genuinely cared, and that was when he gave her the codes to his personal lab. He found her, his Pepper, asleep on the couch more than once, hair loose, feet curled up under a blanket she had brought down because she liked to watch him work.

One kidnapping and betrayal later, Tony began to distrust everything and anyone connected to his father. The only ones who actually seemed to care about him were the ones he chose himself.

Steve Rogers was everything everyone had wanted Tony to be and having all that rush back into his head out of nowhere put him on the defensive. He knew Pepper would tell him that none of that was Steve's fault and could he please get his head out of his head now? But he couldn't. This was the man that his father had idolized and searched for until the day he died. This was the man that Howard had poured all his time and energy into instead of his son, and while Tony knew, and he did know, that Rogers had no part of that, Tony was tired of the past coming to haunt him. Realistically, anyone his father had liked was bad news for him and there was no one, save Aunt Peggy, that Howard Stark liked more than Steve Rogers.

They clashed and shattered against each other, the whole world watching as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers fell into synchronization, the pieces of shared history falling to the wayside in the light of victory.

Natasha was difficult for Tony to process. She was the only person he'd ever met who wore as many masks as he did, and he tried desperately to not think about the fact that she was so deadly because of it. People underestimated her, didn't see how clever her eyes were, didn't see how she'd change everything about herself to fit the image they wanted to see. He saw how it wore her down. He could relate, and she knew it. It was strange, the art of being seen as what other people wanted shared between a man who was always in the spotlight and a woman who learned to blend into the background.

He liked to watch her dance. It wasn't that it made him forget that she was lethal -- quite the opposite, actually -- but more that she looked more human while she did. It was almost like whatever it was that allowed her to drift seamlessly between personalities melted away and left just a woman who loved to dance behind. She was talented and beautiful because of course, she was, but it was how carefree and unguarded she was as she twirled around that caught -- and held -- his attention. The funny thing is, he almost didn't have this, he almost let it slip through his fingers. The shooting range was originally going to be both Clint and Natasha's "welcome to the dysfunctional family" present, but the archer had a different idea.

"You want her happy, Stark, you give her a place to dance," Clint had said in such a no-nonsense tone that he almost thought that he was playing a prank on him, and if he followed through, she'd kill him without mercy. But the glint in Clint's eyes told him to take a chance, and so he lined one wall of the gym with mirrors and had a barre installed, much to the confusion of the builders. When he took all of them around the tower, the way her fingers trailed along the metal was reverent. She and Clint shared a look, he nodded, and suddenly Tony's arms were full of a redhead who could kill in an instant if she wanted.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear. He's still not sure what platitudes he said, but a second later, she was across the room, no hint of the raw emotion she had just displayed on her face. And that was that.

He hadn't expected to ever see her actually use the space he had carved out for her, as it was well known that she was in the gym late at night when the more sensible members of their team had long since gone to sleep or pretended to. But he was no stranger to aimless insomnia, and had wandered into the gym one night, just walking around, and had been startled out of daydreams by slow music, and it would have been ethereal if not for the haunting melody. The sound of her feet hitting the floor came after and his eyes drifted to her. It was in that moment he had reconsidered the meaning of the word "revealing". He had certainly seen more of her skin than the leotard was showing, but he had never seen more of her. He looked so much like his father that they tended to forget that he was Maria's son as well. He'd been to enough ballet performances to know that while her movements weren't the most technically accurate, that was only because she didn't want them to be. He also knew she was aware of his presence. For a moment, he considered walking back out of the room, give her the privacy she clearly desired, but she wasn't stopping, so he kept watching. She kept dancing to the delicate music and he sank to the floor in front of her, his legs crossed over themselves, a captive audience. Her lips quirked up into a smile, and as the song came to an end, she bowed in his direction.

"You could do that professionally, you know. Drop the whole spy thing and just do that," he told her as she offered him her hand. She shook her head.

"No, I couldn't," she said. He looked her up and down, and smiled sadly.

"No, you couldn't," he agreed, "but you should dance for us, sometimes. Pretty sure that little number you just did would scandalize our dear captain." He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed and laughed. Tony pulled her into him and began a simple waltz in the silence. She fell into step so effortlessly that it almost startled him, but only almost.

"Maybe I'll dance for everyone one day. We'll see. It's not personal, it's just," she sighed, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"It's just too personal," he suggested. She nodded. His hands on her body felt warm and distracting in a way she was not accustomed to. They were not wandering; they stayed exactly where they were supposed to be for the dance, and while his embrace was steady, it was not strict. She could walk away from this moment, and he would let her.

"I don't know how to let people in, Tony. I don't know how to be a person, not really." Her steps never faltered, but her voice wobbled, just a bit.

"One person at a time, one little truth at a time," he said, switching the dance from a formal ballroom to a playful mishmash of whatever he wanted. She grinned and teased him with chaos of her own. She twirled away from him, and as just as he pulled her back to him, he whispered into her ear, "and sometimes, Miss Rushman, you don't let them in at all. They come barging in anyway and you hope and pray they don't break your heart."

#ironwidow #mcu #fanfic #bad ideas #ao3

12 notes · View notes

shinsorokiri · 4 years ago

Text

UA Idol | Chapter Thirteen

Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Word Count: 2,414

Warnings: Language, dense Shinsou and (Y/n) (the usual)

A/N: Hey I finished it! I’m sorry again for having to change the upload day, I’ve just got lots going on but this is honestly a way for me to let off steam and kind of relax so I don’t want to put it on a hiatus. Besides, after the show that I’m in is over in October it’ll be easier for me to start posting again! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I wish I could have made it a little longer, but it is kind of a filler full of fluff. Hopefully the next one will be super long since it’ll be the performances. Enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

By the time you two had finished piecing your song together, it was literally the next morning. To be fair, you had decided on what lyrics would be sung when along with adding some beat to it and decided you were both going to play the piano and alternate with each other. When you sang, you were playing, when he sang, you were playing, and when they two of you were singing together, you were both playing. It was wild. And you couldn’t wait to perform it. “Do you think Mina and Denki are still up?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Hold on, I’ll text them,” you say, pulling out your phone and sending a text in the little group chat the four of you have. Surprisingly, Denki texts back almost immediately. “Uh… why did Denki just say ‘is that you god? please… save us… we’re in the stairwell… we’d do anything,’?” Shinsou asks, and you laugh. “I think it means he didn’t sleep and he wants us to go visit him and Mina. I could be crazy though, I don’t know,” you say and Shinsou rolls his eyes. “Let’s go, it’s time to see what these two dramatic assholes are doing.”

You and Shinsou make your way to the stairwell, immediately spotting Mina and Denki hunched over on the steps. “You two have to deal with this every day?” Mina groans, spotting the two of you. You look at each other then back at them, shrugging. “Yeah, when I was about fourteen I got used to it,” Shinsou says. “This is Hell,” Denki groans and you and Shinsou sigh. “I think you can survive this one, tiger,” you say and he gives you a smirk. “You should not have called him that, look at his smug face, look what you did,” Shinsou says, motioning furiously at Denki. You chuckle, shrugging while he huffs at you. He was cute when he got annoyed. Especially when he was being lowkey jealous, even if he knew that you and Denki would never amount to anything but friends. He couldn’t help it, I mean his basically perfect best friend who just so happened to be smirking at his basically perfect crush I mean seriously, if you two got together it would literally be painful how perfect everything would be. “Tosh, bro, stop glaring at me, I’m not gonna steal your girlfriend,” Denk teases him, and you both turn bright red. “SO UH,” Shinsou clears his throat, trying to play it cool and not like he just screamed, “Why did you want us to come here?” “Tell us if this sounds good,” Denki says, sitting up and pulling Mina up along with him. “Well hold on, what are you guys about to sing?” you ask, sitting on the stairs and taking up the spot they were just occupying. “Well we didn’t wanna do a love song because I mean, I’m not into… his kind, so we decided on something hot that both of us could sing about and have it be okay,” Mina says, and you grin. “And what would that be?” Shinsou asks, plopping down right next to you. Weird how his lavender scent always made everything hazy around you. Guess you just like it that much. And it’s not like you couldn’t pay attention to what was happening, you could. In fact, everything was just better when you were seeing the world in lavender. “We settled on break up with your girlftiend, i’m bored,” Denki says and you and Shinosu make a “makes sense” face at each other. “Sounds very you two,” Shinsou says, and Mina blows him a kiss. “Thank you!”

“Sing the damn song.”

“Okay, okay,” Denki says, and then he begins strumming the beginning of it on his guitar. You grin, the way he was picking and strumming it was very satisfying and fitting to the way they wanted to perform it. And of course, the two of them singing together was gold. I mean, they just sound good together, and the fact that it kind of looked like Denki and Mina were trying to get the same girl to break up with her girlfriend because they were bored was truly a work of art. It was also nice to just see them perform a song together and have fun with it. “I, for one, think that’s the perfect song choice and way to play it,” you tell them, and they grin at you. “Thank god. If y’all didn’t like it, I don’t know what the hell we would have done,” Mina says, and Denki nods, setting his guitar back down. “It’s a very sitting song choice for the two of you, not to mention you sound great together. So there’s that,” Shinsou says, giving them a thumbs up. “So what did you two come up with?” Mina asks, and you look at each other. “Should we tell them?”

“I don’t know, maybe we should just keep it a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Mina asks, her eyebrows furrowed. “You realize you have to sing a song on the list for this one?” Denki says. “Yeah, we know.”

“Who said we weren’t?” you ask, and Mina and Denki give you a confused look. “If you were, then just tell us what it is.”

“Who said we were just singing one,” Shinsou says with a shrug, and Mina and Denki look back and forth between you two. “What the hell does that mean?” Mina asks, and you laugh. “You’ll see, it’s unfair to know and not be surprised like everyone else, now is it?” you wink at her, and she sighs. “Whatever, you two are fucking weird. When do people start singing?” Denki asks, and you glance at the time on your phone. “Well, it’s six in the morning and the first group goes at three in the afternoon. So, you have nine hours, however if you want to sleep it would probably take like five to ten minutes for you to get a ride back to the hotel and fall asleep and then there’s soundcheck for everyone from two and on and I know that the both of you probably need an hour and a half to get dressed and do your hair and–”

“It actually takes me two,” Mina interrupts. “Yeah, and it takes me two and a half. This hair doesn’t get styles perfectly by nothing happening to it,” Denki says, and you sigh. “Okay whatever. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. You both have around, oh I don’t know, like four hours of sleep before you would need to be back here and ready to perform.”

“Okay! I’m down, by guys, see y’all later,” Denki says, immediately sprinting outside. “WAIT FOR ME YOU MAN WHORE,” Mina s c r e a m s, chasing after him. “The two of them are very… interesting,” you say, earning a laugh from Shinsou. “Yeah, that’s certinaly a word to describe them.”

“You know, I would say we should get some sleep, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I can. Like, yeah, I’m tired but I mean… I’m still anxious about this next performance,” you say, and he nods. “I get it…” he says before dropping off. He begins thinking before he stands up and pulls you back to the practice room the two of you had been at all night. “Shinsou, I don’t think we need to practice anymore; our voices could get hoarse and shot and it would be bad for–”

“We’re not practicing, we’re getting some sleep. If you’re tired, then you’re getting sleep,” he says, turning the lights off and locking the door. You stare at him as his phone light illuminates his face. You know he’s only setting an alarm, but the way that the light is hitting his features is beautiful. He somehow looks like an angel even when the light is coming from underneath of him and just barely illuminating him. The way you felt about him was not good, you had sworn to yourself that you would never catch feelings like this for anyone ever again. Love is a dangerous and painful chase, and you were tired of trying to keep up with it. But you couldn’t deny that you thought he was a very attractive man with a very attractive personality. And you also couldn’t deny the urge you got to kiss him every so often. “Alright, I have the alarm set for noon, that gives us a chance to be up and ready for when Denki and Mina get back here. I texted them to bring us some clothes, so we look presentable and don’t have to run back and forth to the hotel. Now, lay down, the producers gave us this pillow and blanket and I think you should use it,” he says, handing them over to you and turning his phone off, enveloping the two of you in darkness. “Uh, no you deserve it,” you say, shoving it back toward him. He sighs. “(Y/n)… I can’t use these when I know you could use them. I would feel too guilty,” he says, literally throwing them back at you. Now it’s your turn to sigh. “Alright… so… I have an idea, but if we do it, it doesn’t leave this room and we do not turn the lights on so the producers can see us.”

“I’m listening.”

“Okay so… there’s only one blanket and pillow so how about we… y’know… share…?”

He stares at you for a moment through the darkness, and you can’t necessarily see him, but you can feel the intensity radiating off of him. “…Share?”

“Yes. Like… I don’t know… cuddle… I guess?”

Thank god it’s pitch black. You’d probably die if he knew how red you were right now. You absolutely cannot stop blushing. This was 100% something you wanted, but you didn’t want to admit that outloud. Little did you know, Shinsou was in the exact same boat as you. He was just frantically trying to get his heartbeat to calm down before you would be able to hear and feel it from close range. “Uh… yeah, yeah sure. Okay. Good thinking,” he says, performing his signature neck scratch. But you couldn’t see it. Did you visualize it though? Oh absolutely.

You laid, down placing the pillow under your head. Before you could place the blanket over yourself, you felt another head hit the pillow, and suddenly you felt someone else’s breath hit your face. Damn, he was literally so close. What the fuck. What the fuck. You feel the blanket being placed over your body, as well as an arm. A really strong arm that you know is Shinsou’s because even though he hates going to the gym, he’s literally trained in karate which is really cool and also really hot because he’s really in shape and yeah, uh, stop thinking about that right now. You’re too nervous about him feeling your heart about to beat out of your chest to realize his is beating just as fast. You tried to push back these thoughts, and in doing so you were reminded of some aspects of your past relationship. But no matter how long you tried to dwell on those thoughts, you always came back to Shinsou. And his warm smile. And his embrace. And his scent, and his demeanor, and his humor, and, well, him. And just thinking about him and feeling his warmth had your eyes slowly shutting. And you were craving more warmth from him. Or maybe you were just craving him. And as much as that thought would scare you, right now you don’t care. You just know you feel safe and comfortable in his arms.

But the fact that he actually has you in his arms right now is crazy to him. It’s lowkey a dream come true, but he knows he can’t really comment on it. This was just a way to ensure you were both comfortable. Obviously. No other intentions behind this. And he may not be able to see your face right now, but he can feel your breath hitting his nose, and it causes him to smile. He could only imagine the look on your perfect face right now. He wished he could see it, but the lights had to be off so no cameras could spy in on the two of you and try to get some juicy gossip for the episode. The two of you lay like that for quite some time, and he only hopes you fell asleep. He has intense troubles with it, and even though he knows that you struggle with it too, he’s worse. But somehow, knowing your with him is way more comforting than any of his cool down rituals, or any of the sleepy time tea he drinks or even the melatonin he takes when his insomnia gets really bad. And he feels himself getting tired. Crazy the affects you have on him.

Before he starts drifting off, he feels you bury your head in his neck. Of course, it surprises him, but when he feels the steady breathing coming from your body, he knows you’re asleep. He can’t help but smirk knowing that you wanted to be closer to him in your sleep. He wanted you to be closer too, so that’s why he tightened his grip around your body and closed his eyes. He could get used to this feeling.

Of course, he also had the nagging fear in the back of his mind about falling in love again. He was afraid that with you, that would be possible. Now yeah, he’s had shitty relationships, but the relationships weren’t the thing he was scared of. The majority of the people he loved, and even loves, in his life had all left. And he didn’t want that to happen with you. He never planned on it to happen with anyone ever again. But right now, with you asleep in his arms, that fear was pushed to the very back of his brain. All he could think about was how happy he was in this moment. And for the first time in a long time, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. You two were able to sleep long enough that you both had dreams.

Too bad neither of you will ever tell the other that they were about each other.

66 notes · View notes

tellyouwhatilike · 5 years ago

Text

WILDFLOWER PART 1 - CALUM HOOD

So this is what I’ve been working on! I’m finishing part 2 as I post this. I really hope y’all like this, it’s been super fun to write and I haven’t posted any new writing in a loooooooong time- so please let me know what you think! <3

Part one does not contain any smut, part 2 will 100% be smut lol.

WARNING: This contains mature language and subject matters, 18+ please!!

__________________________________________

PART ONE

“Cal!” An excited voice called from across the large patio.

Calum’s head whipped around while his eyes searched the scantily-clad crowd at one of this month’s industry networking events the label requested he attend. He had to admit, this was one of the more amusing ones, a themed pool party with a barbeque style spread. With that signature phony, ostentatious LA touch to it, of course. This is the kind of thing Calum typically steered clear of in the past; less so since officially uprooting his life to Los Angeles and being conditioned by his band’s record label to make appearances at gatherings like this on a regular basis. His eyes finally landed on his target and his lips curled up instantly—the melodic voice that had called out his name over the masses of valleyspeak blending together in the background, and subsequently, the only true reason he’d agreed to represent the band tonight at this function.

“My, my, my; look what we have here” he said with cheeky implication as he took a moment to slowly look her up and down with a shit-eating grin spread across his face, leaving his eyes squinted and cheeks rounded. She looked even better than he remembered, her long tousled hair neatly spilling over her shoulder just how he’d always liked it. It had been months since he’d seen her in the flesh and the sight of her was enough to make him feel giddy to his core.

“I’m so glad you could make it” she replied with a breathy laugh, cheeks slightly flushed as her arms wrapped around his neck for a quick squeeze ‘hello.’ In that moment, she was very pleased with her decision to wear her sleek black one-piece suit under her cutoff shorts with a red lip—a combination that always delivered. His palm lingered across the span of her waist around her back, squeezing gently, letting it run down to her hip before letting go. When they parted from their embrace and their eyes met, Calum’s cheeky confidence quickly turned shy and boyish, as it typically does.

“Yeah, me too. This is—this is quite the soiree.” He motioned to the mingling bodies around them. “Um, so how have you been, how was Morocco?” He looked down awkwardly at his shoes for a brief moment, cursing himself and nature for not being smoother. Trying not to come off too eager although he’d been thinking about this interaction daily for nearly a year now, whether they had been speaking or not.

They had been engaging in a modest flirtation for months and months now, they had tried going on a handful of dates right around the time the band came back to LA from touring to focus on writing the following album, ‘Calm.’ The term ‘dates,’ however, should be used loosely; Calum’s record label doesn’t approve of the guys getting snapped by paps casually dating around. Rules have certainly been broken in the past— but he figured, since they’d only just met, it wasn’t worth the headaches that these things cause on the harsh world that is the internet. People always talk and it tends to confuse the masses. So, they opted for more intimate yet appropriate venues for their rendezvous like dinner at Calum’s outdoor living space, tight knit shin-digs at his bandmate Michael’s house, or lengthy facetime calls from their respective home couches.

Calum was absolutely smitten- a feeling so new to him, he couldn’t even remember if he’d ever felt it with anyone else before. He was also terrified things would fall apart just like they always had in the past, she ran free and untamed, never staying in one place long enough to make lasting connections, making Calum wary of her potentially leaving and breaking his heart. He could always see it in her face, there was a wild side to her that she couldn’t explain. Things quickly began to prove too consuming for him as he tried to juggle really getting to know her, despite his reservations, and focusing on pouring his heart into the upcoming record. He’s the type to completely immerse himself in whatever it is that’s important to him, so he felt it wasn’t fair to them or his art if they continued building on the relationship. The pair chalked it up to poor timing and decided to give each other space while he worked with his band tirelessly on their music for a number of months. Forever the wandering bohemian, she jetted off to spend some time living with friends in Amsterdam and then frolicking about in Morocco for the summer.

Once the record was released, promotion was finished and the tour was completed; he and his band mates arrived back to LA for some much-needed R & R before eventually returning to the writing process to start it all over again. She returned back to her home base, for the time being, sun-kissed and thrilled to be back in the states for one major reason. Calum had spent nearly the whole first month home catching up on sleep, ordering sushi on grubhub and lounging around in boxers doing next to nothing; standard procedure. But now he was fully rested, extremely rejuvenated, and he was eager to get up to no good.

“I’ve been good, yeah, Morocco was gorgeous and…mind-altering…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought while taking in his face, she shook her head slightly. “Wow, it is so nice to see you again.” She reveled, her green eyes catching light of the twinkling strings adorning the canopy above where they stood. “It’s been a while, huh?” Her cheeks swelled up as she flashed him a smile and attempted to calculate quite how long it had been in her head, remembering some of the last times they hung out vividly. Thoughts shifting to his scent, how he looked different but it was somehow even better than before, the way he had to look down to meet her gaze, the hand he had pressed against her waist when he greeted her earlier, how she felt at ease and wired at the same time to be in his presence.

“Way too long” He said through a toothy smile, already having to remind himself of how they vowed to take things slowly over the text messages leading up to tonight, and simultaneously imagining leaving cherry red marks down the length of her neck. He couldn’t stop sneaking glimpses of her exposed skin and imagining her dark hair splayed across his crisp white sheets or holding her tightly while she wore one of his old t shirts, he desperately hoped that’s where this night was headed. His tongue slipped out and ran its way over his bottom lip when the thin black strap of her bathing suit slipped down her shoulder, his hand moving before the rational side of his brain had any time to talk him out of it. He gently brushed her hair back to expose her bare shoulder and slid the strap back up into place for her, their eyes meeting as his hand lingered there for a moment too long. His jaw tensed as he pulled his hand away, looking down briefly, she swallowed and made herself busy with her champagne flute. He swore he could feel little tiny electric sparks flying each time his skin met hers. “Sorry” He muttered, ever apologetic.

“Don’t be” She said softly and gave him ‘the eyes,’ the eyes that Calum still thought about before he fell asleep some nights. A face that looked like it came straight out of his dreams, innocent yet sinister all rolled into one, making him shiver. A face he couldn’t help but imagine staring up at him while she takes him into her mouth slowly, then all at once. Quite a regular fantasy he’d been having these days, this face felt like she was giving an open invitation to daydream of her. They’d been calling or texting almost daily for around two weeks since she arrived back home, anticipation rising with each passing day.

“So,” He cleared his throat some, “What are you doing after this?” He asked, meaning for it to come off more charming than it did. “I mean, would you want to go hang out somewhere… else? Or something.” He suddenly regretted going in for the kill so soon, he couldn’t read her expression, though he thought if he stared at her pouty pink lips and long dark lashes for long enough, he might. She smirked to herself and let out a chuckle, using her index finger to poke him in the chest. He, rather dramatically, twisted his face up and rubbed the spot vigorously with his palm.

“Owww!” He whined, wide eyed and feigning disdain. “What did you do that for?” He carried on while she rolled her eyes playfully. Tired of the party’s cold chickpea ‘cheeseburger’ sliders and shallow conversation, she decided to speed this process along. She was no fool, they’d both been waiting for this very moment as an excuse to hang out alone again.

“Let’s get out of here.” She leaned in to put her lips up close to his ear, brushing her palm up against his bicep lightly. She pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile taking over her plush lips his eyes kept finding their way back to. “I wanna come to your house” She stated, stepping forward slightly to close the space between them, her scent creeping up into his nasal passages and making his mouth go dry imagining how sweet she’d taste.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat, his eyes widening. “Sure… I mean, yeah, sounds good. I’ll grab the car.” He said, trying (and failing) to sound as cool as possible, turning abruptly and b-lining for the gate, lightning suddenly coursing through his veins at the thought of what was to come. Once to the car, he used the mirror to check his hair as he pulled around to the front drive of the house, moving it around and smoothing it down, not making much of a difference with his recently-buzzed ‘do. Now, he knew exactly where the night was going.

(To be continued...)

90 notes · View notes

sonatanotwo · 5 years ago

Text

Well... I barely slept. 😂 Least I’ve got coffee... Gonna try to fumble out some words... (Spoilers ahoy!)

I didn’t quite expect the emotional roller coaster this has turned into... and not entirely cause of the episode itself. 😂 It’s feeling ever so bitter sweet... mostly in that experiencing something so emotional without a lot of the people that made up this sorta... fandom home? that it was to me. All the friends I love and care about. It’s... been feeling kinda lonely... Even though I’m not alone of course, but... yeah. It’s hard to explain. 😂 And then with this looking like the end (...though I kinda doubt ITV is gonna shelve the franchise for another 10+ years... least I sure hope not. That’d seem VERY dumb to me. But what will they do with it? That’s the real big question, ain’t it? XD I was a bit agape after attaching ‘Season’ to every time they spoke of ending that today they finally changed their tune and was like THE END. What the ever loving heck, ITV. Seriously. 😂 BUT I digress...) ...IDK if any of that feeling will ever come back now. Shit changes... god, do I ever know it does... but I guess... I just wasn’t ready for it yet. ;A;

...And boy is my body telling me that. 😂 Anxiety is such an asshole.

ANYHOO.

SO.

This ep.

As I mentioned when I gif’d it (opening my gif making stuff was first thing I did XD) that HUG man. That old hug art I did, the original version (the one you see commonly around now is the tweaked one) was one of my first finished (ish) TAG piece (only few rough doodles and half coloured things were before that lol) that I posted June 10th 2015.... so long ago. (My first post that was some sketches was June 2nd XD Yeah, I’ve been around a long while now, blimey. Not quite the VERY very start, but nearly!)

BUT YEAH. I was wanting this hug for a VERY, VERY long time. XDDD Just, back then, didn’t think it’d involve their Dad too. lol

And then, gosh... Scott in this ep... Last ep was def more Scott heavy... to balance he was stepped back a bit, but... it did make sense? Scott just seems quietly basking in the feeling of having his Dad back. Him hanging back from the hug for a moment having that exchange with his Dad feels a bit like a... passing back the torch? Here they are Dad. I took good care of them. :Db Does that make sense??? IDK. I’m so tired you guys. 😂 But it didn’t feel like Scott needed to say anything. It was written all over his face. He must have been so happy... and relieved. It’s pretty overwhelming in all the best way to hear from someone you haven’t in awhile... so... in this case, it must be turned up to like... an 11. ^^a

Man, I don’t think I can go through this in order so, bear with me if I bounce around.

There’s been so much wondering what this version of Jeff would be like all these years... and in such a short time, we definitely got a LOT to go off of. He’s a Dad who definitely doesn’t hesitate to hug his sons. :3 Fears Grandma as much as the boys, lolololol HUGS HIS ENGINEER. I actually really just... LOVED that scene with Brains. That casual, ‘Hi Brains.’ And then just calling him PARTNER and going right in for a hug... and lol Brains’ lil happy sound. Jeff and Brains were certainly friends in TOS, but there was still a kinda distance between them in that Brains is working for Jeff, but that was definitely laid out to be much different in TAG. I’m not surprised by it, cause Brains is def part of the family, but it was lovely they took the time to show it.

ALSO just how he picked up Virgil was dwelling on something... we don’t really get a window into what exactly... but after all those years, he just... picks right up on Virgil’s in some turmoil. (As said in a tag... MAYBE MOM RELATED? He seems to think Virgil’s worried if he’ll really be okay, which is why I wonder... GONNA DEF WRITE SOME FIC THOUGH. XDb) Like. GOSH. I’m sad we aren’t likely to see more of this Jeff, cause with this single ep, he was absolutely sold on me. And I love he was a total presence... but he did sit back quietly and other than dealing with ‘Brains’ and largely just *watched*. Scott was still in charge here.

So as for the end and what role Jeff is gonna play... WELL... I mean. To be fair here at the end, John is probably changing and heading to the elevator... and I mean, we’ve seen Grandma fill in several times for John... he can’t be awake CONSTANTLY, so I’d always felt a bit like maybe they’d gradually gel into a team with just... one more member. And that seems more likely now that we’ve seen he didn’t just... jump to take command. He sat back and let them do their thing.

And now we can see Jeff is def a bit younger... and as kinda already implied, is definitely one to get his hands dirty, so sometimes (once he’s recovered a bunch) maybe he’ll even go out with the boys. That’d be my guess. ^^a I mean, might be a little kinda jostling at first to settle into a new routine... but while he certainly has a strong presence... he’s also did kinda feel... a bit gentle too? He’s not nearly as stern as TOS!Jeff. It felt like a good balance??? IDK. I’m rambling up a storm. XDDD (...and making walls of text... I should... break these up more lol...)

OKAY ALSO...

WAIIIIT wait. WAIT. This looks familiar. V E R Y familiar... Bridge... rockety thing at bottom... explody warning? Two people inside... *squints* DAY OF DISASTER? IS THAT YOU?

I HAVE A FEELING... If so... //CHEF KISS// VERY NICE. A+ XD

OKAY. WHAT ELSE. Uh. Glad they did end up using Fuse’s (or I guess I could say Clarence’s :D) mixed feelings, which was good and gave Grandma a heck of a moment of awesome. They also served to give some action for Kayo, Penelope and Parker which was good else I suppose they’d have been standing around worriedly. lol Which isn’t really suited to their characters. XD YEAH just lotta nice moments, especially with Kayo and Grandma. ANd just. YEAH. GRANDMA MAN. YOU TELL HIM. and also OMG she was a doctor?! THAT sure explains some things. XD And that’s awesome, gosh.

ALSO the number of HUGS in this ep were A+ Getting a moment with Jeff and Grandma was lovely. :D

LIKE REALLY. LOOK HOW HUG HAPPY THIS DAD IS. I AM PLEASED. A+

And just lol... ‘I don’t even have a car yet.’ ‘You have a rocket.’ ‘...oh yeah. That’s true.’ LOLOL SUCH ALAN. He is too cute.

...AND yeah. IDK. I feel like I’m forgetting things. I’ll ramble them into another post if I think of things. I gotta pop out for a bit. 😂

BUT YEAH. Yeah, there’s few things they didn’t get to addressing, but there were hugs and emotions which was what was really the important thing, right? :Da I don’t really feel like nit picking when had all that. XDDD

(It is kinda interesting how in a way the ending reminded me of Legacy’s a bit with a ...Oh we got an emergency. It’s a good note to leave off of... but goes to show when maybe S1 was written, it was largely on the assumption that it could be the only season... but then were able to hint of S2 in an additional scene. But if S2 hadn’t been commissioned, it was sorta ready to be a finale if it had to. In a way S2 was the same, though with bit more hints of S3 were there so... Just kinda interesting. =Oa But also nice that Rob has left it in a way that NEVER SAY NEVER (to quote Rob) is definitely open. ^^)

ANYHOO. That’s all my rambling for now. ^^

#~OOC Post #Thunderbirds Are Go #TAG Spoilers #Spoilers #Episode: The Long Reach (Part 2)#here is my thoughts finally #and by thoughts I mean #lots and lots of rambling #I am SO so tired #I feel like I'm forgetting something I was thinking of...#but I also might be sleepily delusional lol #anyhoo... :3

35 notes · View notes

sapphiclecterarchive · 6 years ago

Text

the babysitter - fic

Fandom: MCU, Spiderman

Character(s): Peter Parker

Desc.: In which Peter is trusted with a child.

A/N: i’ve never posted any fics on tumblr so i thought i’d give it a shot! this will also be on my ao3 if you fancy sending it some love over there. SORRY if this is indecipherable, it was written in 3 days in amongst a mad panic to finish art coursework

WARNING FOR ENDGAME SPOILERS. SO MANY SPOILERS. OH MY GOD THERE ARE SO MANY SPOILERS IN THIS

Peter really isn’t expecting the call.

May is working a late night at the shelter, which she’d explained with a concise note left in the middle of the kitchen counter, underneath a twenty dollar bill for takeout. The takeout guy is the only person he’s expecting to encounter this evening, besides the Instagram group chat which buzzes every two minutes and John Mulaney on Netflix. That’s until his phone rings.

The number isn’t saved on his phone, so he almost doesn’t answer it. It’s only when he realises that it could be May calling in an emergency, or Ned or MJ or anyone else, that anxiety forces him to pick the phone up. The line between his Spidey senses and generalised anxiety disorder is a thin one that he treads very carefully.

“Hello?”

The woman on the other end of the line sighs in relief, “Peter, thank God you picked up.”

He recognises her voice instantly - from the news, from the battle, from the funeral. He scrambles to find the remote and pause the TV.

“Mrs Potts? Why are you — what is — uh — how are you?”

They haven’t spoken since the wake, when she’d hugged him and let him cry into her shoulder. His heart seizes at the memory of her calm composure, supporting a boy she barely knew while he fell apart over the death of the man she loved.

“I’m doing alright, thank you,” she answers. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Okay.”

“Would you be able to babysit Morgan for a few hours?” Peter’s hand freezes on it’s way to the bag of Cheetos next to him on the couch. “I wouldn’t normally ask with such little notice, but I have to do some stuff for the Foundation launch, and our regular sitter fell through.”

“That’s no problem at all,” Peter says, without even thinking about it. “I didn’t have plans, anyway.”

Pepper exhales with relief, “That’s amazing. I’ve sent Happy to pick you up, he should be there soon. Thank you so much, this is such a big help.”

As soon as he places his phone down, Peter realises that he knows absolutely nothing about taking care of a kid, and that he’s currently in nothing but ratty sweatpants and an old sports jersey.

He practically launches himself over the back of the couch, abandoning his show and his takeout to race into his bedroom. His pyjamas are replaced with black jeans and a thick wool sweater over a tshirt, and he just manages to comb through his hair and spray himself with deodorant before his phone chimes from the couch and he races to check it.

Unknown Number: Outside. – Happy

He texts May to let her know where he’s going while he bounds down the stairs. Sure enough, Happy is waiting on the sidewalk, leaning up against a black car.

To Peter’s surprise, Happy ignores his offered handshake and instead pulls him in for a hug. The embrace lasts a long few seconds before Happy pulls back, his hand lingering on Peter’s shoulder. “How you holding up, kid?”

“Okay,” Peter says. Happy opens the passenger side door for Peter and rounds the car to get in behind the wheel. The doors slam, and Peter talks over the starting of the engine. “School’s getting intense, and — uh — everyone’s getting excited for prom. But, uh… Yeah, that’s sort of it.”

Happy glances at him out of the corner of his eye as he pulls the car out into the road. “Prom, huh? You got your eye on anyone? Planning a…. what do you call it? A promposal?”

Peter thinks about MJ, about Ned, about Betty, about the guy in his physics class who always lets him share his textbook when Peter forgets… “I haven’t really thought about it, uh, with everything going on.”

“I getcha, kid.” They come to a slow stop at a red light. “These past months have been pretty intense… I haven’t really known what to do with myself, to be honest.”

His voice has grown quiet, and the last word of the sentence almost dies completely. Peter looks over at him as he scrubs a hand over his face. Is he crying?

Happy is covering his face with one of his hands, now, shoulders shaking minutely. Peter has no idea what to do. What are you supposed to do when your dead mentor’s assistant who hated you not that long ago is suddenly crying in front of you?

“Uh… Happy?” He gets no reply. “Happy?”

“Yeah, kid?” Happy looks up at him, his eyes tear-filled and puffy but a supportive smile on his face all the same.

“The light’s green.”

As if on cue, the car behind them beeps it’s horn, spurring Happy into moving the car forward.

Pepper Potts is waiting for them when they arrive at the house. It looks no different to how it did at the funeral, and it upsets him a little to look at the front porch and the small dock where they’d stood to say their final goodbye. She gives him a very brief tour of the house, and an explanation of Morgan’s bedtime routine. Apparently, she has already had her bath and her dinner, so the only thing Peter has to do is put her to bed by eight.

“There’s enough food in the refrigerator and the pantry for you to make yourself something to eat, feel free to watch whatever you want on the TV, and I should be home by eleven, but if you’re tired by then you’re welcome to sleep in the guest room.” She pauses, taps her fingertips together as if checking off a list, and then drops her hands and smiles warmly at him. “I really can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

How could he have said no? He understands more than anyone what grief feels like, and if the obvious exhaustion underlying her composed expression is anything to go by, being suddenly thrust into single parenthood has taken its toll on her. He remembers May wearing the same expression after his Uncle Ben died, and he knows now how much she’d needed an extra pair of hands.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs Potts.”

Her petite hand brushes his elbow, “Please, call me Pepper.”

She then crouches down to say goodbye to Morgan, and he politely looks away, for some reason he feels like that moment deserves privacy.

“You’ve got my number, so if there’s anything you need you can either call me or Happy, okay?” she assures him.

“Okay, Mrs — Pepper.”

She smiles, nods, and gives Morgan one last kiss on the cheek before leaving.

“We’ve got about forty minutes to kill before bedtime.” He looks down at the young girl. “What do you want to do?”

“Cartoons!” she exclaims, a gleeful grin on her pudgy face.

“Cartoons?” He turns toward the couch, expecting her to follow him. She grabs three of his fingers with her small hand and walks ahead of him, as if guiding him to the couch. He doesn’t have to wonder where she gets that from.

“Cartoons,” she clarifies, jumping up onto the couch with a huff.

He sits next to her and picks up the remote to start looking for the kids’ channels. “What’s your favorite cartoon?”

“Spongebob!” she says around her thumb.

It takes him all of five minutes to scroll through the entire TV guide and finally assess that there isn’t one channel currently playing an episode of Spongebob. Or any cartoons, it seems. He’s about to give up, when she holds out her hand.

“Remote.” The ‘R’ is more of a ‘W’, and she makes a grabby hand toward the remote until he passes it to her.

“There are no channels playing cartoons…” he begins to explain, bracing himself for a five-year-old temper tantrum. Instead of screaming or crying, however, he’s greeted with the familiar opening note of the Spongebob theme tune.

When he looks at her, she’s looking back at him with a cheeky grin. “How did you figure that out?”

“Mummy got it on the TV for me.” Her speech is pretty advanced for a five year old, but it’s obvious how hard she’s working to get her words right. “She said so I can watch it when I’m sad.”

His eyebrows knit together, and he fears sounding like a counsellor - or a parent - but he can’t help but ask, “Are you sad a lot?”

She shrugs, jams her thumb in her mouth and talks around it, “I watch Spongebob a lot.”

He ends up watching her more than he watches the cartoon, mesmerised by her starry-eyed expression as she watches the bright colours flash across the screen. They reflect in her big brown eyes, which he knows that she inherited from her dad. She also inherited her stubbornness, apparently, because even when her eyelids begin to droop and she can hardly sit upright for sleepiness, she doesn’t give in. She refuses to doze off until the end credits of the episode are rolling, and then she almost instantly collapses, snoring lightly, onto the couch cushions.

Careful not to wake her, he slips his arms underneath her armpits and lifts her. Her arms and legs wrap around him sleepily, making it much easier for him to carry her upstairs without fear of dropping her. He pushes the door open with the heel of his shoe, uses his right hand to continue supporting Morgan’s weight while his left pulls back the covers on her small bed. Once he’s placed her down and tucked the blanket up to her chin, he follows Pepper’s instructions of shutting the blind, turning on the nightlight next to her bed, and leaving the door slightly ajar when he eventually steps back out into the hall.

The TV is still displaying the paused credits of Spongebob when he sits back down on the couch. He wants to go onto Netflix and carry on with what he was watching earlier, but he feels like it might be a bit of an intrusion to use Pepper’s personal Netflix account, so he settles on a channel that seems to be only playing reruns of Family Guy.

His phone buzzes, and he glances at where it sits next to him on the couch.

Ned: Deathmatch?

Peter can’t help his smile. After Thanos, and everything else that’s followed, the simple things like playing Overwatch with Ned - even if he loses every time - make him so much happier than they would have before.

Peter: can’t tonight, am babysitting.

The next message from Ned comes through almost immediately.

Ned: Who tf trusted U with their kid?

Peter: ikr

Peter: pepper needed an extra hand w morgan

Ned doesn’t reply, so he assumes that the match has started and settles down onto the plush couch cushions. He scrolls through his Instagram feed, through photos posted by people from school and the odd celebrity. Until, eventually, he dozes off with his phone still in his hand.

A loud bang makes him start awake what feels like five minutes later. His phone slips out of his hand and onto the floor, the bang it creates making him startle again. He sits up blearily and stretches until his back pops. Through the windows, he can see nothing but black. His phone screen, when he picks it up to check, tells him that it’s just past nine-thirty. He hadn’t planned to sleep at all, let alone for an hour and a half.

Everything in the house still seems intact, and it doesn’t seem like Pepper is home, so he assumes that the bang was caused by the dog door, or something similar. Nevertheless, a residual anxiety forces him to his feet. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges up the stairs toward Morgan’s room.

The door is still slightly ajar, and the light from the hallway illuminates a strip of her polka dot duvet cover. He pushes the door open more, expecting to see her still tucked up tight and fast asleep.

She isn’t in her bed.

Peter’s stomach flips.

“Morgan?” he calls, hoping that she’s just hidden somewhere and will pop out giggling.

She doesn’t. He flicks the light on.

“Morgan?” He rounds the bed to check the other side, which is also empty.

She’s not hiding underneath the bed or in the wardrobe, and he checks every single room upstairs for her. But, she’s not in Pepper’s room, the guest room or the bathroom.

“Morgan!” he calls again as he races down the stairs. The downstairs bathroom is also empty, and she isn’t in the living room or the kitchen.

As he races back into the living room, his eyes lock on the front door. He can’t remember locking it behind Pepper, and he’d been woken up with a loud slam…

He throws open the front door, looking out onto the lake and the front garden, until there’s a small cough to his right.

There she is, her small form curled up on the rocking chair, thumb in her mouth and eyelids heavy with

He softens his voice to try and mask his panic. “What are you doing out here?”

“I can’t sleep,” she explains quietly. Her body seems to betray her there, though, because she lets out a yawn almost immediately.

He really doesn’t know how to get a stubborn kid to go back to sleep. He thinks back to when he was a kid, and how May would convince him to go to bed.

“You can have milk and cookies if you come back inside.”

She shakes her head.

“Juice pops?”

He remembers seeing them in the freezer earlier, and he assumes that she’ll be moved by the offer. She isn’t, and shakes her head again.

“I want to talk to daddy,” she says.

Peter’s brain takes a second too long to reboot, because she rolls her eyes and continues like he’s missed a very obvious point. “Mummy says that daddy can hear me if I sit here and talk to him.”

This is the first time this whole evening that Peter realises how much she must miss her dad. For the past few weeks, he’s felt like he’s been on autopilot, like there’s a vital part of him missing. So he can hardly imagine how she feels; she probably doesn’t even understand that he’s never coming back.

He doesn’t remember when his parents died, but he remembers asking May about them. He remembers the frown that would tug on her mouth every time he did. He remembers how much that frown would confuse him. They’re in a better place, she would say, so why would she look so sad?

He understands the questions she probably has, he understands how overwhelmed she must feel, surrounded by sadness and falseness and feelings that she doesn’t yet understand. All she needs is some normality.

“I think daddy would want you to wear a jacket outside.”

She pouts indignantly and crosses her arms to let him know she isn’t going anywhere.

Knowing now that she isn’t being moved, he grabs the hem of his sweater and tugs it over his head. The hair on his arms immediately bristles against the cold, his t-shirt doing nothing to keep him warm.

He crouches in front of the chair so that he’s level with her, sweater held between them.

“This sweater belonged to my uncle Ben. He’s in the same place as your dad, but before he went, he gave me this sweater. Do you know what he told me when he gave it to me?” She shakes her head. “He told me that it would protect me against anything, and it can protect you, too.”

He remembers Ben passing it to him while they were queueing for the Haunted Mansion at Disney World. Peter had forced him and May to queue for almost two hours, only to get too scared and start sobbing as soon as they got closer to the ride. The sweater was supposed to be a mode of persuasion for a then nine year old Peter, but it’s his most treasured item, and memory.

After Ben had died, the only thing Peter wanted to keep was the sweater, and ever since, he has worn it whenever he needs extra comfort.

He’s been wearing it a lot recently.

“Anything?” Morgan repeats, eyes wide. “Even monsters?”

He laughs, “Even monsters. Do you want to put it on?”

She nods enthusiastically, and he silently praises himself for his quick thinking as he helps her pull it over her head. It’s too big for him, so it covers almost her whole body, and the sleeves are about twice the length of her arms. She looks a lot warmer and happier, though.

She reaches out to him, and he doesn’t understand what she wants until her hands pop out of the sleeves and open and close sporadically in a move which he reads as “pick me up”.

He picks her up around her waist, her arms wrapping around his neck, and then turns to sit on the chair. She shifts around until she’s sideways on his lap, facing the lake, her head cushioned on his shoulder and her hands pulled up under her chin. The sweater cocoons her like a swaddle.

“Can you tell me a story?”

He doesn’t know any stories for kids, unless the classic, Disney movie fairy tales count.

“Do you want a story about your dad?”

She nods, the movement clear against his shoulder.

“Okay.” He wills himself not to cry immediately at the memory of his mentor, not wanting to freak the kid out or undo the hard work Pepper has undoubtedly done on making this whole situation seem lighter for her. “When I met your dad, I’d just gone through a big change…”

He recites the story of Germany, and then, when she asks for another, the stories of the boat and of Titan. They’re shortened, censored, and the latter is missing the part where he turned to dust for five years, but they’re true. Calmed by the stories, and smiling at the talk of her dad, she eventually falls asleep soundly against his shoulder. He looks down at her serene face, and he hopes that she remembers the good things about Tony, he hopes that she’s dreaming about him. He hopes that she dreams about building pillow forts with him, about him carrying her on his hip while doing important research, about him tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead.

Pepper gets home not long after Peter has tucked her back into bed.

“Was she okay?” she asks in a whisper, although the house is definitely big enough to talk at full volume and not wake the sleeping girl.

“She was a dream.”

A small, relieved sigh stirs her fringe. “Good. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s honestly fine,” he says. “I had fun.”

When he unlocks and pushes open the door of the apartment, May is in her pajamas on the couch, watching some reality TV show. She looks over the back of the couch when she hears the door close, and smiles. She seems tired, as she always does after working overtime, but she’s wearing her fluffy pink socks, which means that she’s happy.

“Good night?”

He sits next to her, slowly tipping sideways until his head lands on her bent knee. Her hand automatically goes to his hair, stroking the top of it like she used to when he was small and would sit on the floor between her knees while her and Ben watched TV. Then, she moves her hand to his upper arm, and her palm feels boiling hot against his skin. “You’re freezing.”

As she tugs the throw blanket over him and pulls him closer to her side, he realises that he didn’t take his sweater back.

#endgame spoilers #endgame fic #peter parker #morgan stark #peter parker and morgan stark #peter parker fic #mcu #mcu fic #may parker #bc i love her #i'll definitely write more ft these two soon bc i love these siblings #tom holland #tom holland gif #spiderman #pepper potts #happy hogan

118 notes · View notes

fourmisfitz · 6 years ago

Text

Drowse (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Summary: You need a quiet space to work, so you go to your best friend Rogers. You arrive exhausted, though you try to deny it, and Roger takes it upon himself to take care of you and get you the rest you so desperately need...

Setting: Current year because smartphones and some literature references, but London, England when Smile was still together and Brian and Rog were still studying at Ealing Art College. Imagine whichever Roger Taylor version you fancy, I just chose the Ben!Roger Borhap gif to prime you with that concerned emotion☺

Word Count: 4.6k

Requested? ✔

Warnings/Content: Just stocked up on fluff. It’s long but it’s just sweet:)

A/N: Hello lovelies! HERE IT ISSSSS, I’m totally writing this while running on 2 hours of sleep after two all-nighters in a row so, let’s hope tis good;) I was listening to ‘39 while writing the last bit, so if you wanna get in that sorta mood, like, go for it. This is my second fic posted on this account, let me know whatcha think! Something of this sort was actually requested by two followers, and I blended the requests slightly in a way that I think works well. One request was more open-ended where Roger takes care of you, and the other involved being at his place and ending up staying the night and something happens, which brings me to- no, there is no smut (because I actually have one coming out soon for that *wink wink*), but I hope it still leaves you satisfied, enjoy!

P.S. sorry it’s so long, needless to say I got carried away! ;)

And remember- feedback, feedback, feedback! Xx, Darc

Rubbing your eye with the knuckle of your thumb you let out a muted yawn as you leaned your head against the bus window. You were on your way to your best friend Rogers for the evening to work on an important school project. You both studied at the same college, but lived about 9 miles (15km) away from each other. Though you spent a lot of time together at one or the others flats frequently, lately school had been overwhelming to say the least. You’d been nose-deep in textbooks and research papers that never seemed to end, leaving you little time for socializing besides a few phone calls. After countless waves of sirens passing in your busier side of town, you had given up trying to write your paper in your small studio apartment and asked if you could come over and work together. Roger didn’t actually have much work to do, as his prof was a little less intense with the workload, but he was more than willing to lend you a quiet space to get some work done and catch up on one another, too.

You glanced down at your phone to flip through the songs Roger had recorded with his band Smile and sent to you. Roger, Brian, and Tim had been toying with some new rhythms and riffs, and Rog always liked getting your trusted opinion on how they sounded before going out and performing them at gigs. Though he was usually pretty stubborn to changing his sound, if you suggested it he would at least try it. He’s been doing this for awhile now - sending you them, seeing as you were his best friend and had an ear for good music, playing the piano yourself; a natural virtuoso.

Some riffs really caught your ear, others were merely pleasantly entertaining; it seemed none of them were boring, but they were missing something, perhaps some more excitement. You made note of the ones you really liked and would be sure to tell Roger when you arrived around 7pm.

For the time being, you slowly dozed off en route to his flat, but as the bus struck a pothole it shook you awake as you nicked the side of your head on the glass. Glancing out the window, you realized you were one stop away from your destination.

You got off and walked into the apartment complex that towered a measly 3 stories high. It was definitely different from your studio flat, which was located in a very dodgy area with alarming traffic swinging by all through the night. You buzzed the door for entry with a “Hey-” and paused to yawn, leaning against the wall, “-Blondie. Future-tooth-inspector. Rog. R-to-the-O-Geee. TayTayyy-” and were finally cut off by a loud buzz.

When you got up to his front door on the second level, he was already standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and hair disheveled as usual.

“Don’t you ever call me TayTay again.” but his face quickly formed a wide teeth-gleaming smile as he opened his arms for a hug. “Come here, love.” You smiled back, your smile not really reaching your eyes in your fatigued state as you dove into his chest. He was a solid few inches taller than you, making hugs protective and secure. His chest was warm, instantly making you content and his little muffled laugh was lulling you. Roger was wearing a smooth black button-up, buttoned up halfway, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You let out a pleased sigh and he looked down at you nuzzled into his chest.

“ ‘You alright?” a half-laugh leaving his small mouth.

“Hm?” you asked, still hugging him tight, “Oh- yeah yeah,” you straightened up and snapped yourself awake with a head shake as he looked at you quizzically. “Yeah, ya goof” raising your voice a bit to convince him, playfully shoving his shoulder, “i’m just a little sleepy is all!” walking past him into his flat.

“If you say so.” He shrugged, dropping the thought and walking over to the kitchen.

You had plopped yourself down in front of the big couch - between it and the low wooden coffee table, a bag of textbooks and folders on the floor with you, ready to set up shop.

“Fancy some tea, bunny?” he called from around the corner, filling a kettle up with water.

Bunny - the nickname he picked up for you for always being so hyper and jumpy, never really able to sit still, a true opposite to your current demeanor, though. You leaned your head back to rest on the couch cushion as your laptop started up.

“Yeah! ummm-” you pinched your nose, feeling a headache rush to the surface. He had backed up from the kitchen to see you past the dividing wall, popping his head around the corner. “Orange pekoe, please!” eyes still closed, you called back, not realizing he was a few feet away from you. He paused for a moment and then resumed his meandering in the kitchen.

“Sugar?”

“Hit me with three!” you were in need of something extra sweet to wake you up.

You moved your hands behind your head, supporting your neck, elbows high. You blew a big short breath as if to get down to business, but your laptop was installing some updates, as it always seemed to do when you needed it most. You pulled out your phone and decided to scroll through social media for a bit while you waited, but the screen just hurt your head more, so you settled on resting your head in your arms on the table. Just for a minute. The kettle began to pop and bustle.

“Oh! By the way, did you get a chance to listen to some of the new material from the band I sent over?” After a few seconds of silence, Roger peaked his head about the wall again, seeing your face was buried in your arms. “Y/N?”

“Hm?” you perked your head up the slightest inch and shook yourself awake again. “Oh- yes I really liked, umm... the one with...” You were yet again interrupted by another oncoming yawn. “the one with theee.. guitar and, stuff.” Your voice was barely audible through the yawn. You fluttered a hand in his direction, drooping your head back into the dark space provided by your arms.

“Rrright...” he furrowed his eyebrows. The kettle threw pops of water inside it, bouncing off the metal and echoing throughout the flat. He wondered how long it had really been since you’d had a decent night sleep. He walked over to the couch, sitting down behind you and lightly placed a large hand on your shoulder.

“I’m up!” You snapped, throwing flexed hands up like a reflex. His hand was paused hovering above your shoulder in a bit of shock from your reaction. You let out a groan, leaning your head back against his knee.

“I’m sorry, I- I’m just so-”

“-I know.” he said in a low calm voice. He knew when you got tired like this - like anyone - you were bound to be more impulsive and emotional. He slipped one hand under your head to cradle it and cushion his boney kneecap. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look pathetically exhausted, Y/N.” he peered at you, running his fingers through your hair near your temple with the other hand, chuckling to himself at your puffy eyelids.

You rubbed your eyes and sat back up. You gently gripped the edge of the coffee table bracing yourself as you leaned into a deep yawn, “I ammm-muh,” agreeing. You lifted your head back up, wiping shy hints of tears away that had emerged from the stretch as you blinked into alertness, “but I have to finish this paper, Rog, it’s due in two days and I still have another one to start due in a week.”

“Well, then how ‘bout a walk? It’s cooled down a bit outside. Fresh air ‘oughta do some good.” He tried.

“A walk sounds nice, but I really can’t right now, Rog.”

Roger looked at you inquisitively as you went to type in your password to unlock it. After two failed sloppy attempts pattering the keys, you grunted weakly in frustration, “Well this is just great!” but then it turned into a quiet giggle. You glanced up at him smiling a bit deliriously. His faced was laced with concern as he scanned your goofy lopsided smile, the laptop serving another delayed ding and rejecting you entry. You seemed to be acting the same as you did when you were tipsy, all giggly and incoherent.

He didn’t mind looking after you, he quite liked it actually, having someone to get all protective over sometimes. He had taken care of you in many instances in the past, whether it was taking you home after you went too hard, too fast at a bar and was worried about prowling guys taking advantage, or when the seemingly kinder ones broke your heart; you always found yourself at his flat, welcoming you with open arms, movie marathons, tea and your favourite ice cream.

“Oops.” your head bobbled, eyes hooded and blinking at him through your lashes. You returned your gaze back to your screen for another hopeless effort, but just as you were about to type, your hands were shaking profusely. You started to feel a wave of dizziness occur. You began to drowse.

And at last, the tea kettle began whistling from the other room. He got off the couch and bent down beside you.

“On second thought, maybe we should get you ready for bed, yeah?” Though he offered a ‘maybe’, it wasn’t a suggestion, he decided on it. He reached out from his perched lowered stance to scoop either of his wrists below each of your underarms, lifting you back onto the couch for a moment as he stood back up.

“What? No, Rog, I’m- I’mm-” you were halted in your sentence by another stubborn yawn, “III’m fiiiiine-hh” relaxing your face. He just shook his head deciding to ignore your weak protest.

“Surrre you are.” He bent down to reach an arm under one of your legs.

“No Rog really I’m quite good honestly” you tried again, really trying to display your typical bubbly self, but you were so tired you instantly sunk into him and gave up as he swung his other arm behind your upper back to support your weight.

“ ‘For your own good, love.” Your arms instinctively wrapped loosely around his neck as he carried you ‘princess-style’ to relieve the kettle of its panic and then to his bedroom.

“But my paperrrr” you slurred, tilting your head back to see the abandoned laptop.

“It can wait.” He said assertively.

“Someone’s been working out,” you giggled, tapping the shoulder farthest from you. He just did a little snort at that, because of the randomness, and he knew he wasn’t exactly the buffest guy.

Hearing yourself say that showed you just how sleep deprived you truly were, because that was just a little weird. You leaned your head into the crook of his warm neck, his long hair tickling your cheek. You swore you could pass out in his arms right then and there.

He was so good at caring for other people, at caring for you.

He presented himself as this guy with a hard protective shell who mainly cared about his reputation as a good lay, shagging girls left, right, and centre, but you knew him for the softie he was, something he didn’t really let anybody else see.

He set you down on his bed, helping you pull the puffy duvet out from under your legs and lifting it to rest over your shoulders.

“I’ll go fetch your tea, be right back.” He assured.

You must have dozed off for a brief moment because he was back with a steaming cup the very next second. Roger flicked the dim nightstand lamp on and set your mug down on the coaster.

“Let that cool for a bit, darling,”

God, you’d never get tired of his husky, raspy voice, and hearing him say darling, the way it sounded so stuffed with care as it rolled off his British tongue.

You sat up a bit and leaned into the tufted headboard. For a small apartment that was home to a college student, his bed was the most luxurious one you’ve ever seen... guess it made sense why. He sat on the edge of the bed close to you. You glanced down at his exposed forearms, never really noticing how defined they were from all the drumming, as he placed a hand on your covered thigh.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, Y/N?” his eyes finding yours. You shrugged, your guilty ones trailing away to the duvet below.

“I’on’know.” you lied. He brought a hand to your chin, his index finger knuckle tipping it up to return your gaze to his bright blue eyes.

“Have you been at least trying to fall asleep? What’s been keeping you up?” There was that look of concern again you’d become accustomed to whenever you found yourself in damsel mode.

“Well yeah, ‘course I have, I just...” he waited patiently for you to finish. The truth was that you had been working hard on school, but you had also just been dumped. You didn’t want to admit that though, because you weren’t even really officially dating the guy yet - it had only been about two months, and Roger and you hadn’t hung out in a awhile because of schedules, so you failed to inform him of the new lad anyway.

You huffed, “I got dumped.” you closed your eyes, not seeing his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Dumped? By who?” He moved his settled hand to be atop your own. You shook your head slightly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“I didn’t want to make it a thing, and I felt bad for not telling you about him in the first place when it started becoming something.”

You also didn’t want him thinking there was something wrong with you, that there was some attribute or trait that drove men away, had he ever decided to reciprocate feelings for you. Which was a stupid thought and you knew it - you were best friends and he knew you. You also had kinda just been keeping yourself occupied with romantic interests in an attempt to chase your feelings for him away while he himself seemed occupied with girl after girl.

He cocked his head to the side. “Oh, love, that’s okay. I mean, we’ve both been so busy, you especially. I know how hard you work. Sure I’d like to hear about things but it doesn’t always necessarily have to be as they happen.” You’re eyebrows pinched, wondering how you got so lucky to have him as your best friend.

He passed you your cup of tea, “Should be cooled down enough now, there’s no sugar though.” You raised an eyebrow at him as you tipped the mug back against your lip. “Chamomile.” He rushed to explain shortly. You just sipped without a change in expression, waiting to hear more. “Nightmares, and all - you know how sugar heightens the-” He waved his hand around in front of him, searching for the word, “vividness and all...” he almost seemed... embarassed and sheepish, trying to act like it didn’t mean much, “didn’t want you waking up from some night terror or something.” He let out a half-laugh, taking a sip from his own mug, “Do you want to tell me what happened with this dumbass?” Followed by another sip to shut himself up.

“You remembered.” you noted, slumping back lower down the headboard, a little grin coming over your face as you clutched the warm mug.

“What’s that?” he raised his brows, licking his lip to catch a droplet of tea that dribbled.

“Just,” shaking your head, “didn’t think you remembered I got night terrors.”

He shrugged. “You used to get them pretty bad.” he recalled.

One night a few years ago, you had stayed the night at Rogers for the first time and he was awoken by a very panicked you, unable to fully wake up, and he just held you, shushing you as you quieted down and drifted back to sleep. You didn’t know about that night though. When he referred to it the next morning in conversation, you had no idea you woke him up at all, just that you had a bad nightmare and thought your leg shook and that was the end of it. You thought nothing of it and forgot about his mentioning of it when he played it off as “must've been a dream or something,” of his. Other times you knew you, when you would wake up alone at home from them, but you were never aware of his comfort being the reason you were able to stop panicking and lull back to a deep more relaxed sleep that night.

“Hmh. Anyway, about Dean,” another yawn, “maybe in the morning, Rog.” your weak, shaky arm resting the mug back on its coaster.

He perked up, “Dean, eh?” a grin widening across his face. You groaned. “He even sounds like an ass.” He shot you a wink, ruffling your hair as he stood up from the bed. “You’d better get some sleep, yeah? I’ll be out on the couch if you-”

“Wait!” you urged a bit too sudden, grabbing his wrist.

“Yeah?” He looked down at you, awaiting a response.

“Uhhh,” Shit.

“Wha’s up?” He turned his body to face you.

“Just... could you-... could you maybe stay in here tonight?” your voice trailed off quietly. “I just know I sleep better when I’m not alone, and-” he knew it too.

“Yeah, sure. If you think it’ll help.” A wave of relief came over you.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it in a corner, walking over to his wardrobe to snatch a pair of pajama bottoms. “Do you want something comfier to sleep in than those tight jeans you’ve got on?” He also remembered they were tight...

“That would be great.” you laughed nodding, and he threw a pair of flannel bottoms at you, accompanied by a band tshirt.

You instantly began changing right then and there, not giving it a second thought.

“I like that one.” Roger noted, your grey lace bra now in full view.

“Roger!” you clutched your cotton button-up to your chest to cover yourself. You didn’t really care too much though, but you were so tired you just didn’t really consider walking the 5 feet to the bathroom to change.

He let out a boyish chuckle, “What?!” You swatted your shirt him, shaking your head with a little grin peeking out. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.” he went to undo his belt with a smirk creeping up, referring to the countless girls he’s been with.

“Shut it! I’m too tired to even- I just wanna go to-”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, Y/N. Really. I’m just pullin’ your leg.” You sighed. “I’ll give you your privacy.” he mocked, defensive hands held up near his shoulders as he exited the room to the bathroom.

You began to change, pulling his tshirt over your head. It smelled so good, with hints of musk and pine permeating off of it.

From the bathroom, Roger could see your reflection in the mirror. He went to close the door properly when he noticed to actually give you your privacy, but just as he was, he caught you reveling in the scent. You had the shirt on, but lifted it, the fabric held to your face, eyes closed. He smirked and rather than shutting the door to avoid attention, just stepped away so you weren’t in his view.

You slid off your pants, which exhausted you to the brim, leaving you out of breath. You could hear the water running as Roger brushed his teeth and such. You reached for the flannel bottoms he had offered you and pulled those on under the duvet. They were huge on you because of the height difference, but they were comfy, nonetheless.

Roger knocked on the bathroom door as he walked in to give you some warning. He was shirtless and wearing a similar pair of pants as you. Your body lay somewhere under the thick duvet, just your head peeking out as you lay on your side. He looked down at you as he turned out the bedside lamp. Your hair was sprawled out over the satin pillowcase, and there was something so mesmerizing about it.

You felt the other side of the bed sink as he moved the blanket back and climbed in. Instant warmth radiated off of his body under the covers. You, back in a sort of delirious haze, reached out and placed a small hand on the side of his head, petting his hair.

“Having fun?” he laughed, moving your limp hand off and placing it between either of your pillows by your head. You felt something lumpy underneath your palm.

“Is this-?” you yanked it from the far back position it was stuffed.

“What?” a now groggy Roger asked.

you gasped, it was.

“Aha!” you gleamed, a fist clasped around its fluffy body, “Beary Potter!” you squealed. It certainly peaked his attention.

“Y/N! Give it!” He ordered as you yanked it away from his reach, giggling.

Beary was Rogers first teddy bear, and you remembered him always needing to sleep with it, no matter where he was. He had a blue ribbon tied around his neck, and even in the dark you knew it was him from the familiarity.

Roger kept reaching as you sat up holding it far away from him in the air.

“Tell me Taylor,” you went on as he groaned, falling back into the pillow, defeated.

“Do your late night shags ever get the courtesy of meeting such a legacy?”

“That’s enough out of you!” he grabbed your wrist in one swift motion, causing you to lose grip of it as it dropped. Your giggles came to a halt. He sighed, grabbing the stuffed animal and setting it on his bedside table, out of your reach.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.”

You sighed and whined, slumping down to the pillow, now laying on your back.

“Oh Don’t tell me you’re not tired anymore.”

“I am tired!” you retorted. “I just-” you trailed off.

“Well out with it!” he pried impatiently.

“I’m scared...” you croaked, staring out at the black abyss of the dark room.

“To fall asleep?” his voice was a bit softer now.

Your exhale was enough of an answer to confirm that. He adjusted so he was closer now. A lot closer, actually. You could feel his warmth from all of his body right next to you, just shy of an inch away.

“Maybe.. I could help with that...” he offered in a whisper near your ear.

That caught you off guard, sending a shiver down your spine as goosebumps covered your body. He was right there but all of a sudden you felt freezing at the tiny sensation his breath had against your neck. You gulped quietly.

“How-” clearing your throat, “-how do you plan on doing that?”, the curiosity honestly getting the best of you.

And at that, you felt a hand reach over to your jaw, his finger tips just by your ear, turning you to face him. His fingers gently trailed down the side of your neck, before he stopped himself, retracting his hand back to his side.

Your face dropped in disappointment, though he couldn’t see.

The dark room let him forget who he was beside, not being able to see your face as a reminder - definitely not just some girl.

“Roger...” you breathed, completely unsure of how you were - or should be - feeling.

He exhaled through his nose. “Sorry.” he went to flip onto his side to face away, but you caught his shoulder, and slowly pulled it back down to rest on the mattress.

“No it’s... it’s okay.” He turned to face you. “Could you actually, um...” you inhaled and held your breath, “could you hold me, Rog?”

“Hold you?”

Oh boy, should I have even asked? We’re best friends and all but-

“Will that help?” he asked, genuine care lingering in his tone. There was a pause before he felt you nod as your head audibly moved on the pillow.

“Okay, love.” and you turned to face the other direction, scooting into his warmth as he extended an arm under your neck to rest your head on. He draped a secure arm over your waist and dragged his hand from the dip of your waist up your arm to your shoulder and back down again to try and relax you. There was that shiver again, but it felt so comforting.

“You’re alright, you’re okay.” he reassured, continuing to draw his fingers along your skin.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. A bit hesitantly, you moved a leg back to intertwine with his.

His leg jolted at first in surprise. “You’re freezing!” He exclaimed, barely louder than a whisper. But then he wrapped his leg with yours, making them a mess of limbs under the thick covers.

There was a pause for a bit as you settled into the comfort.

“Three days.” You croaked.

“Hm?”

You turned around to face him, taking a deep breath and letting it go against his chest. Your hot air gave him goosebumps as his arms settled around your new position.

“I haven’t slept in three days.” You whispered, nuzzling your face into his sternum.

He gave you a squeeze with his arms and held you closer, his grip securing you in his arms.

“Well...” reaching a hand up to run his fingers through your hair, instantly calming you down a hundred levels. “That’s about to change, isn’t it?”

Your nose let go of a short breath in amusement, reaching an arm under his and drawing circles on his back. After awhile, you felt yourself grow laden with fatigue, but you couldn’t get a song out of your head. “Roger?” your voice barely audible in the security of his hug. “Y/N, go to bed.” he insisted. “The one with the lyrics about the girls smile.” you murmured into this chest. A moment went by before you added, “That’s the one.” and continued tracing a few more shapes on his bare back before your hands fell limp in a deep sleep. “Well,” He kissed your head ever so lightly. “I’m relieved because that numbers about a special friend of mine.” but you were already gone.

That night, you had some dreams. You had good ones, bad ones.. terrifying ones even, but Roger was there. The whole night, he never let go of you, even when your body started nearly-convulsing in a REM sleep panic. Even when your nails dug into his back subconsciously from the fear propelling you out of stillness, he just breathed extra deep in the hopes of your lungs mimicking his inhalation patterns. Even when he woke up in the morning with just a measly half hour of sleep docked, he was still just as close to you as you awoke.

He looked down at you, your arm draped across his bare torso as he lay on his back, you basically a koala attached to him. Moving a stray hair that had fallen over your face, your eyes slowly blinked awake, lashes fluttering, and met with his blue ones.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” His raspy voice cooed, smiling at your sleepy state. You just squeezed him tight for a moment and settled your head near his collarbone as you lay on your side.

“Did you have a good sleep?” You asked with closed eyes, slowly seeping into a drowse again.

He tucked some hair behind your ear and replaced his hand on your upper arm with a deep breath.

“The best.”

You hummed in satisfaction, and went back to sleep, your little hints of snores drawing out a smile across his face you never saw as he finally did too.

Please let me know what you thought :”) I won’t know if my writing is good unless you let me know or offer ideas for what I could improve on as well as fic/blurb/headcanon requests! I appreciate all the support :) xx

319 notes · View notes

hellapainyo · 5 years ago

Note

I WANNA HEAR YOUR HEADCANNON FOR A LIL DATE(NOT FIRST, MAYBE 4TH OR 5TH)WITH ONE OF THE MAKNAES OF NCT/WAYV ORRRRRRRRRRRR LIKE A LIL BLURB FOR ALL OF THEM IDK DO IT IF YOU WANT I JUST LOVED YOUR LIL HENHEN THING AND I WANNA HEAR M O R E

First, AHHHH thank you! I’mso excited to try out writing a bit just for fun and it warms my heart that youwanna see more!

I’m going to include ’98and ’99 line because I’m not the most familiar with the Dreamies and Wayv yet.That being said, if you want me to do something with any of those members specifically,let me know and I will!

And please, feel free to send in more requests!

Jungwoo:

I see Jungwoo as a soft guy who likes to plan things

Idk he pegs me as whimsically pragmatic, which Iadmire

I feel like the 5th date would feelimportant to him, it’s a nice round number so he wants to ask his date to behis partner officially

He plans it all out that they’ll have a smallpicnic

Followed by a bike ride in the park

Then it finishes at a fountain that’s deepwithin the park where he will ask them

It’s a sunny day and warm when he meets his dateat the café, so he’s all chuffed and building his ego so he can feel confident

When his date shows up, he’s got this fake machoman thing going which just makes them giggle because “manly Jungwoo” is hysterical

They’re about to depart for the picnic when itstarts raining

Cue moody, bratty Jungwoo

His date is trying to be easy going and is findinga cultural center you can bring outside snacks to, but in the process, Jungwoois too upset to notice the bracelet he bought to confess with just falls out ofhis pocket

They get to the museum and spend a bit looking atall the pieces and his date is pointing out the parts they really like and Jungwoois loosening up

They find the luncheon area and open up thepicnic and have a grand time talking and Jungwoo is deciding that he can saveit, he can make it cute

He looks at the map of the museum and sees thatthe only exhibit they haven’t looked at is a hologram field of flowers

After their lunch he drags his date to the hologramand while they are admiring the beauty, Jungwoo realizes he lost the bracelet

He’s aggressively patting his pockets when hisdate turns around, smiles, and hands him the box the bracelet was in

“Is this what you were looking for?”

“I… Yes. Um…” he opens the box, “Will you by my girl/boyfriend?”

“I’d thought you’d never ask”

Lucas:

He’s an Aquarius so I falter between him being asuper energetic partner and also a really lazy one because he works so hard

So let’s go with a lazy date because I’m softfor cuddly Lucas

He’s definitely the guy who is both super chillabout the status of relationships, but also so incredibly devoted and whippedfor whomever he’s seeing

The “define the relationship” phase doesn’texist for him…

“We’re going on dates, so we’re dating,” is hisperspective

I imagine him being adorable and naïve andcuddly after a long day at practice

He showers and shoots up his partner with a textasking if he can hang

His partner is like, “Uhh my roommates arethrowing a party tonight. Do you wanna come to that or do something more lowkey?”

Since, he’s exhausted, he decides the latter andhe shows up at their apartment in sweats and wet hair

He is the charismatic boy he is and greets everyoneand does the stereotypical, “I’m just gonna steal them for the night.” *wink*thing

They wander the streets, find delicious streetfood, and stretch out their legs together all while joking around

Lucas finds a claw machine and spends $10 justtrying to get a tiny snorlax stuffy for his partner

They result to just buying him shaved ice to gethim to shut up about it

At some point, they both get super tired and,upon realizing they can’t just go back to the dorm or the apartment, they finda movie room

Which btw is like this thing where you rent aroom and essentially you can Netflix and Chill with privacy

The front desk guy is making suggestive faces atthem as they rent one without realizing what actually happens between tired Lucasand tired partner

They make it up to the room, pop the popcorn inthe microwave and snuggle in to watch Finding Nemo

They get a noise complaint for them arguing overwho between them would most effectively be able to communicate with whales

At which point they settle down for snuggles andthey fall asleep tracing stars on each other’s arms

Mark:

My sweet, kind, nervous boy

He’s another one who pegs me as someone nervousaround people he likes

But also, he calls his date “Dude” and “Bro” regardlessof their gender and that, my dudes, is everything I look for in a man

He’s ambitious and also really enjoys stereotypicalcute coupley things so he suggests taking a cooking class with his date

The dish of the day is omurice (which is supertasty okay)

Cute Mark fumbling with the cooking aprons is socute because he doesn’t know if his date wants him to put it on them or not sohe stands there for like 10 seconds with fiddly hands until his date puts one overhis neck and he realizes “Oh okay we’re being COUPLEY coupley”

They attentively watch the instructions andpractice the techniques and everything seems fine

Until it comes the time when they are set looseto make their own dish

Mark accidentally finds himself behind his datebecause Mark is clueless and didn’t really remember how they were instructed tocut the carrots for the rice

He was too busy gawking at how lovely his datelooked with an apron on

Fite me, Mark likes domestic aesthetics

And he realizes his uselessness lol so he wantsto express his appreciation and ends up backhugging his date which is beyondcute but they both get embarrassed and Mark is about to pull away until hisdate just pulls Mark’s arms around their waist a bit tighter

“Your support makes me feel capable” orsomething cute

Anyway, between their constant hugging, poorcooking skills, and unsteady hands, their omurice looks terrible, but tastes great

Inspiration: Yoosung’s ugly omuricefrom Mystic Messenger:

Xiaojun:

A dude I don’t know much about, lol

Like Mark I think he would love to learn somethingnew with his date

But I also think he has a lot of tact too

I can imagine him planning a date and giving hispartner no other context than, “Meet me at the café at 2” and so his date justshows up to this cute rustic café

They sit and have some tea and Xiaojun, being asly bean, keeps complimenting the stoneware the teapot, mugs, and plates aremade from

To the point where it’s annoying lol

And finally his partner is like “Yeah I get it,you like them.”

And he finally reveals that the main date iswheel thrown pottery

Both he and his partner have little to no experiencewith clay apart from a couple random pinch pots made in elementary school

So they get to the studio and they see all thesetechniques and equipment and they are terrified

Xiaojun is the type to smile through the pain sohe’s just grinning and ignoring how intimidated he is

But he’s cute and intuitive enough to tie backhis partner’s hair for them

They’re both terrible at it, but they pose it uplong enough to get the cute ‘Ghost’ scene to post on SNS (poor instructor being forced into taking cringey pics of them)

In the end they make a glob of clay

Xiaojun passes it off as abstract art

The other members make fun of it when he has it onhis bedside table

It somehow is a good phone stand though

Hendery:

This egg, I swear

He’s such a crackhead

The other members have cute little dates withfun chances for skinship, right?

Hendery wants to play paintball and none of hisfriends want to because he cheats at games, so he asks his naïve partner to gowith him

Regrets

His partner is acting all shy about it like they’venever played before, which just feeds into Hendery’s “I’m gonna win so yougotta buy me lunch” mocking

They get all suited up

And the game begins

Hendery is trying his best to hide just so hecan have a better vantage

But this crackhead is a giggly mess because he’sthinking about his date’s face when they lose

Which just makes him easier to find

Plus he’s distracted so he doesn’t notice whenhis partner gets the higher ground with a great vantage point to literally seehim crouching and giggling

*pow* *pow* *pow*

Three chest shots in a row and Hendery is donefor and lost

Forever disappointed Hendery because the gamelasted a total of 7 minutes and he didn’t even get to attempt any shots

He’s just a pouty boy

So much so that he has to get consolation icecream before he can go buy their lunch

But later, he brags to all the members about howgood of a shot his partner is

“I feel so safe knowing they can protect me.”-Hendery

“We don’t have guns here…” -Kun

“BUT if we did! I would be so safe.” -Hendery

I hope you like it!!

#akpoptrash1 #wayv reactions #nct reactions

36 notes · View notes

quandongcrumble · 5 years ago

Text

Tea Witch Tony

So here’s a little thing that I started writing forever ago and never finished or posted -- a magic tea shop AU based loosely on the gorgeous witch Tony art @hello-shellhead has posted in the past, and the Miss Marni’s Teahouse stories by reddit user sleepyhollow_101 on r/nosleep.

The cafe's called "Maria's", and from the outside it looks like the kind of overly homey, commercially southern joint that Rhodey would normally avoid at all costs. But the rain's starting to trickle down the back of his neck in icy fingers, and the shop looks warm and dry at least, and best of all, open at this late hour.

A bell tinkles when he opens the door, and again when it closes, and he stands dripping on the doormat for a moment, just soaking in the wholesome firelit warmth of the place. It smells like cinnamon and apple and tea and beeswax, and the whole shop just glows a kind of warm amber that whips the chill away from Rhodey's cheeks and ears like they were never cold.

"Can I get you something?"

The man behind the counter is a stark contrast to the shop's interior. Rhodey would have expected a plaid-clad teen or an older woman in a gingham apron, but the man is about his age. He has wild, artfully styled hair, an immaculate goatee, and is wearing a black t-shirt, grease-stained jeans, and the kind of smirk that could cause traffic accidents.

"Maybe a towel?"

The man's electric blue eyes sparkle invitingly and Rhodey suppresses the urge to smile for no reason. "Yes, please. And something warm to drink."

"Hang your jacket on the fireguard and I'll see what I can do." The man disappears into the kitchen and Rhodey tries to stamp the street grime off of his boots before picking his way past mismatched tables to the fire cheerily crackling at the back. He's only just finished hanging his jacket over the fireguard and leaning the wet side of his pack against the black iron rails when the waiter reappears with an enormous fluffy towel in one hand and a soot-marked kettle in the other.

"Here," he hands Rhodey the towel and hangs the kettle on a hook that swings in over the fire. "Sorry, the electric kettle's in pieces in the kitchen. This shouldn't take long though."

His hands have black stains around the nails, Rhodey notices, and rough callouses that look like they belong on a mechanic or a blacksmith more than they do on a cafe waiter. In fact, the man looks almost more out of place in this cozy feminine cafe than Rhodey feels.

Rhodey dries himself as best he can without taking off any more clothes, while the man bustles around behind the counter.

"So," the man says, "what brings you out in the rain at nine at night?"

"A cancelled flight," Rhodey tells him. "After a very long string of flights."

"Ah." The man ducks down behind the counter. His voice continues, a little muffled. "And they didn't put you up in a hotel for the night?"

"They did. I needed to stretch my legs. I got a little lost. It's been a long time since I was last in New York."

The man brings tray over bearing a small teapot, a heavy mug, and a plate with two slightly burnt cookies. He sets it on the table nearest the fire and—moving with a fluid grace that Rhodey can only admire without a trace of envy—retrieves the steaming kettle from the fire and pours water into the teapot.

"Let that steep for five minutes and then drink it."

"What is it?"

"Just a little something that should warm you up and ease those tired muscles." He smiles disarmingly and Rhodey smiles back. "If you don't like it, I have a selection of other teas you can choose. I'll be in the kitchen."

Rhodey sits in the sturdiest of the mismatched chairs and watches the man walk away.

"Oh," the man calls back to him. "Sorry about the burnt biscuits. My assistant isn't the greatest cook, but I promise they taste just fine."

Rhodey picks one up and takes a cautious nibble. They don't measure up to Mama Rhodes' cinnamon cookies—nothing ever does—but they're certainly edible. He basks in the warmth of the fire until the time comes to pour the tea and take a cautious sip.

It's delicious—herbal and not overly sweet, with a hint of aniseed that tickles the back of his nose—and warms him from the inside immediately. The stiffness in his legs and back melts away by the time he's drunk half the mug, and by the time he's finished the mug even the tension headache he's been nursing for two days has vanished. He pours the remainder of the small pot into the mug and tries not to practically inhale it. He doesn't remember ever feeling this relaxed, especially not after three days of hopping from flight to flight and sleeping on airport chairs. A feeling he can only think of as wellbeing suffuses him. When he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that he's at home in his Mama's kitchen, full of her amazing home cooking and the joy of being with family.

"Here I found a street map in back."

Rhodey opens his eyes and realises more time has passed than he'd noticed. The fire has burned lower, and the mug in his hands is now chilly, the dregs quite cold.

"Sorry," he says. "I must have dozed." But his back doesn't hurt like it should after falling asleep in a chair.

The man grins. "It's fine. But I do need to close up."

He hands Rhodey the street map. There's a little sharpie'd teacup drawn on exactly where Rhodey suspects Maria's sits. He can see the hotel only a handful of blocks away.

"Thank you," he says.

He gathers his jacket and bag and heads to the till, the man meeting him from the other side of the counter. He pays for the tea and biscuits, and impulsively grabs a small box of Ceylon displayed next to the till. His Mama always liked Ceylon.

"See you next time," the man says as he holds the door for Rhodey.

Rhodey grins back at him. "Next time."

He hears he snick of the lock when the door closes behind him and starts the long trudge through the drizzle back to his hotel. Somehow, despite the rain and the late hour and the chilly rain, he feels warm and content. He glances over his shoulder at the little cafe, still glowing warmly amongst the dark shopfronts, and vows to himself to visit it again the next time he's in New York.

---

He doesn't get a chance to visit Maria's before his next deployment—thankfully on US soil at Edwards, he's had enough of foreign sand for the moment—but he tells his Mama all about the shop and to his surprise the first parcel he receives from her contains four little paper bags of tea, and a note written in a neat draftsman's hand.

To James,

I hope you don't mind the familiarity. Your lovely mother asked me to write down some instructions for the blends I sent you. Three you can drink anytime, the other is a night time blend only. Please let me know how you find them.

Rhodey checks the packets to find them labelled in the same hand. "Soothe" and "sleep" smell similar to the pot he had at Maria's. "Focus" and "energy" smell like black tea, but with different spicy smells. Rhodey grins. They all smell delicious.

He reads the neatly listed instructions for brewing each blend, and then flips the page to find still more written.

I hope you'll come in again next time you're in New York. Your mom said you're an MIT graduate. Maybe we could share notes on Professor Carmichael?

Tony

Proprietor, Maria's Tea House

What exactly is an MIT graduate who'd taken Carmichael's advanced mathematics class doing running a cafe, Rhodey wonders. At least I finally have a name for the tea shop guy. He puts the letter aside and unpacks the rest of his Mama's parcel. Under the requisite new socks she always sends he finds what he'd been hoping for—a Tupperware full of cinnamon cookies.

He takes the cookies and the paper bag of "focus" tea with him to do his reports. He's got enough paperwork backed up to wallpaper the mess with. If the coffee doesn't work at keeping him on track, maybe Tony's tea will.

The tea is smoky, strong, and has just the slightest hint of vanilla to it. Rhodey brews it in a coffee plunger he finds at the back of the cupboard under the coffee machine—left by some serviceman who prefers French press to freshly perked. It works in a pinch to brew tea and Rhodey settles in with the pot at his elbow and his paperwork spread over his desk and knuckles down. The tea works a kind of magic that even a double espresso doesn't seem to manage anymore and Rhodey finds himself burning through forms without hesitation or distraction. He doesn't finish all his paperwork—he's not some kind of miracle worker—but by the time he has to move on to his next task for the day he has cut the mountain down to a manageable size to tackle tomorrow. He stretches the crick out of his neck and hides the tea away in his footlocker, smiling to himself as he remembers the letter and the invitation to visit Maria's next time he's in New York.

#my fic #avengers au #rhodeytony #eventually #tea witch tony #i never really went anywhere with this but i found it the other day and thought it needed to be out in the world

1 note · View note

all-hail-the-witcher · 6 years ago

Text

questionable government spies: chapter 8

all previous chapters are under # spy boys

alright so I’m going against all of my rules literally ever posting this cause I only have like a chapter and a few sentences written after this one and I’m usually two ahead but like school and y’all need comic relief in the form of race being a freaking idiot

also this is a link you might wanna play when you get to /the part/

https://youtu.be/F16O5OAK2K8

___________

ship: platonic ralbert, eventual sprace

warnings: Race is a little shit

word count: not very long

editing: I’m actually not sure ignoring I finished editing this one

___________

Race threw off his covers and bolted into the shower. Two weeks had passed since the day they had met with Spot. He had gotten a call very late the previous night saying that he was going to be going through gang initiation today - whatever that meant - and he was supposed to report to a coffee shop in Brooklyn at 8 am sharp.

Race didn’t really know why he was being sent to a coffee shop, or why he had to be out through initiation, but if it gave him a chance to flex in front of Spot he wasn’t complaining.

He dressed in a pair of black adidas track pants and a fitted black long sleeve shirt and fluffed his blonde hair before walking into the kitchen.

It was barely 7 and Albert was probably still asleep - he had managed to sleep the entire night in his own room last night without nightmares so Race had yet to see him - which meant Race couldn’t have coffee, because Albert made the best coffee ever and his tasted like dirt. So, Race did what any caffeine deprived person would: woke up Albert to make him coffee.

He paired his phone to the Bluetooth speaker and sifted through his Disney Spotify playlist until he found the song he was looking for. Then, while the intro played, he banged around rather loudly as he prepared his lucky charms.

The chorus of the song began and Race put down the cereal he had been puring to scream along, well, sort of.

“No one's nerd as Gaston! No one catches birds like Gaston! No one says WHAT THE FUCK RICHARD like Gaston!” Race screamed at the top of his lungs. This wasn’t how he usually woke Albert up, but hey, he was going to be a gang member today, he needed to get in the villain spirit - Race style.

“For there’s no man in town half as memelyyy! Perfect, a pure meme god! You can ask any Tom, Dick, or Stanley. And they'll tell you whose team they'd prefer to be onnnnnnnnnnnnnn…”

Race cranked up the music louder and grabbed his spoon to use as a microphone as he pranced around the kitchen dramatically. “Whoooooo’s aaaaas meme as Gaston? Who can scream like Gaston? Who can do Krispy Kreme flips like Gaston? As a memelord, yes, I'm intiiiiiiimidaaaating! My, what a boi, that Gaston!”

From Albert’s room, Race heard a loud groan and he smiled. He hoped Albert was appreciating this. True art such as this was only created once in a lifetime.

“I needed encouragement, thank you, LeFou. Well, there's no one as easy to bolster as yoooooooooou! Too much? ...Yuuup.”

Race paused dramatically before leaping into the livingroom to continue his performance.

“No one bakes like Gaston! Has a face like Gaston! In a vine comp no one says they were roommates like Gaston!”

“When I flirt I sneak up with wii music,” Race tip toed awkwardly into Albert’s room. “And all of my friends say a praaayer. First, I hope what I say is not too sick, then I flirt from behind- Is that fair? I don't care!”

Albert rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head as Race jumped up onto his bead and began to sing dramatically. “No one tickles like Gaston! Eats pickles like Gaston! No one says look at all those chickens like Gaston! I'm especially good at quoting lazzzzzzzytown!”

Albert let out another loud groan, which Race ignored, and pulled his blanket over his head. “TEN POINTS FOR GASTON!” Race yelled as he did a straddle jump off the the bed and ran back toward the kitchen.

“When I was a lad, I ate four despasitos every morning to help me get large! And now that I'm grown, I eat five despasitos,” Race climbed up onto the counter and tried to flex, “So I'm roughly the size of a goooooOOOOOOOOODDDDDDD!”

Race grabbed two pots off the counter and began slapping them together on the beat of the song. Then he jumped down off the counter and began parading around the apartment - first the living room, then the hallway and then into Alberts room, all the while banging his pots together and improv tap dancing. If Albert didn't wake up after this he was going to have to break out the airhorn.

Race danced back into the kitchen, executing perfect leaps and turns while still banging his pots. He heard a loud clunk, which sounded suspiciously like Albert falling off his bed, and he smiled before climbing back up on the counter to finish off his performance.

“Who has a bed like Gaston? Drinks mead like Gaston? Who can say roadworrrrrrrk ahead like Gastoooooooon? I use yeeting in my everyyyyyyyyyyyyday liiiiiife!” he paused, looking at the pots in his hands. “YEET!” he screamed, throwing them across the kitchen with a fantastic clatter.

“RACETRACK HIGGINS!” Ah, yes. That was Albert, definitely awake and definitely pissed that he was awake. Race could hear him stomping down the hall angrily but that didn't stop him.

“Say it again! Who's a meme among men? Who's the super success? Don't you know? Can't you guess? Ask his fans and his five hangers-on! There's just one boi in town who's got all of it dowwwwwwwwwwwn…”

Albert arrived in the doorway wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his hair rumped from sleep and glaring fantastically at Race who was still standing on the counter. Race gave him a wink and a smirk to which Albert rolled his eyes before he began the final verse of his performance.

“And his name's R-A-C-EEEEEEEEEE.... I believe there's another EEEEEEEEE…… It just occurred to me that I'm illiterate and I've never actually had to spell it out loud beforeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee… Gastoooooooooooooooon!” Race jumped down from the counter and bowed graciously as the song ended.

“Are you trying to start a cult?” Albert said in disbelief, his voice raspy from sleep.

Race looked up at his friend sheepishly. “No…?”

“Then why are you screaming Beauty and the Beast before 7am?” Albert groaned.

Race leaned against the counter, cocked his head, and put on his best pleading face. “Make me coffee?”

Albert muttered several curse words under his breath before moping into the kitchen. “Sure, fine, whatever.”

“Oh, thank you, Albie!” Race exclaimed, clapping his hands. “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world!”

“Yeah well,” Alber muttered, reaching into the cabinet to pull out the bag of Hazelnut Coffee. “You’re not my favorite person today.”

“I’m not your favorite person any day, am I?” Race sniffled.

“That’s not true,” Albert sighed. “I just don’t like it when you wake me up by screaming incorrect Disney lyrics.”

“Mmmmm so any day that ends in y then,” Race mused and Albert threw a coffee filter at him.

“I don't have time for your bad jokes,” Albert stressed. “You have to be at initiation in like an hour. Let’s go over your cover one more time.”

“Fiiiiine,” Race groaned, hopping up on the counter.

“Alright so, what’s your name?”

“Philip Marx.”

Albert sighed and rolled his eyes. “Tell me why you picked that again?”

“Welllllll,” Race began, “Philip like Philip Carlyle form the Greatest Showman cause he’s a badass and goes from one lifestyle to a complete other, ya know, becomes an outcast and stuff? Isn’t that kinda what it’s like to be in a gang?”

“I don't know,” Albert said rather annoyed as he measured out the coffee grinds. “Also I doubt that people choose their gang names based on a movie about joining the circus.”

“It’s not about joining the circus Albert!” Race smacked his friend with a dishtowel. “It’s about love and loss and finding yourself and realizing who you really are and telling social norms to screw themself and Zack Efron’s just really hot, okay?”

“Alright, fine, whatever,” Albert sighed. Race was beginning to regret waking him up, he was acting far more grumpy than usual. “Do I even want to know why you picked that last name?”

“Because Karl Marx is a badass.”

Race laughed as Albert turned to him, sputtering incoherently. “Ra- wha- why- ugh.” He buried his face in his hands. “First of all, Karl Marx is dead. Second of all, he’s not a badass he invented communism and basically started the downfall of Russia and a crapload of other problems. Third of all-” Albert was interrupted by the timer going off signaling that Race’s coffee was done brewing.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Race smirked. “He’s problematic, like me. Also we both have really great hair.”

Albert wordlessly handed Race his cup of coffee. “Remind me why I thought it was a good idea for you to do this job again?”

Race pondered. He couldn't exactly say that it was because he didn't want Albert to get in harm’s way. “Because I’m a good agent and you love me?” He hopped off the counter to pour some coffee creamer in his coffee.

“Close enough,” Albert sighed. “Now hurry up and eat your cereal. I gotta get you to initiation.”

•••

Initiation, as it turned out, was a gruff looking man inside the coffee shop handing him a folded piece of paper with a strange code on it. Race solved the code quickly, it was a simple number scramble that said: down three blocks, back parking lot.

He walked out of the coffee shop, down the street three blocks, as per the instructions.

“Rapunzel, where are you going,” Albert asked through the comms unit in his ear.

“Down three blocks to some back parking lot,” Race responded.

“Alright, Vincent just pulled up a street camera. Looks like there’s a guy in his late 20s there and that's it.”

“Okay,” Race responded, a little disappointed that Spot wasn't there. “I’ll talk to you guys when I’m done.”

“Be safe, Rapunzel.”

•••

Two hours later, Race climbed into the back of Jack’s van, tired and very much in need of a shower.

“How was it?” Albert asked, turning around and laughing at Race’s flopped position on the floor of the van.

“Tiring,” Race sighed. “I had to break into a store and steal a cd without setting anything off.”

“An actual store?” Jack asked from the driver’s seat.

“Yes, an actual store,” Race said pulling himself up.

“Ah, yes,” Albert said, “my best friend, a petty thief.”

“I’ve been a petty thief my whole life, Albie, remember when we-”

“Ah ah ah” Albert cut him off, gesturing to Jack. “We have children present.”

Race laughed and rolled his eyes as Jack protested. “Anyway, the guy had me also do all this fancy parkour junk and self defense stuff. Haven’t worked that hard since training with Jacobs.”

Albert made a sympathetic face. FBI training camp had been the most strenuous thing either of them had ever done to date. “What was the guys name, again?”

“Oscar Delancey,” Race said, wrinkling his nose. “He was nasty. He kept pushing me unnecessarily hard. And he said something weird. He told me ‘oh, you’re him’ which didn't make any sense.”

“Yeah, that's kinda weird,” Albert agreed. “Maybe he expected you to be someone else.”

“Maybe,” Race brushed it off. “Anyway, I got my first mission tomorrow. Gotta report to the used car place at 9 am sharp.”

Albert and Jack let out a cheer. “That’s fantastic, Race!” Albert said, shooting him a smile. “Pretty soon we’re gonna crack this case right open.”

Race couldn't agree more.

___________

ah yes that song took me three days to write and it’s probablt the best thing I’ve ever written

did anyone catch the jace quote ?

also pay close attention to the greatest showman references....

also shits about to get real yo it’s going the hell down

feedback is always appreciated hmu to be on the tag list

tag list @fairly-awkward-trashcan @well-the-kids-do-too @racetrackcook @bouncyscreamingnewsboys @ughwaitwhat @aw-jus-let-em-try @ben-cook-can-cook @the-woild-is-my-what-now @elmer-s-s0cks @voice-foundshoe-lost @galaxy-trees13 @stopthe-presses @ridin-in-style @pinecovewoods @imjusttheoutgoingsidekick @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing @bencookisagod @be-more-chill-evan-hansen @hellasoulless @stellar-alpaca @saxoph-ella @smolcanadiankid @disney-princess-sized @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @insane-tomato @so-up-rolls-a-riot-van @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @have-we-got-news-for-you @thatfancyclam @myidkwhatmynameisblog @legoflambwrites

#saphie scribbles #spy boys #ralbert #sprace #race is a meme loving fuck #i don’t feel like adding more tags #newsies #newsies fic

65 notes · View notes

sunshinedevotee · 7 years ago

Text

yet another very necessary taehyung rant

i’m back! before i start i’d like to say i appreciate you all so much for the comments and such, even the ones who claim that tae isn’t underrated (begone thots), you motivate my procrastinating ass. you guys don’t need to thank me though i’m just doing the lord’s work. now i have things to talk about so let’s get started!

if you’re new to these posts then this part 3 of what has kind of become a series (?), where i go on rants defending taehyung and explain why he’s kind of underrated. contrary to popular belief; as you’re about to see, boi needs it.

now i’m sorry, but before everything i really want to talk about this man and his precious dog!!

RIGHT MY DUDE TAEHYUNG DIDN’T JUST GET ANY DOG, HE GOT A FOSTER. LET’S PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THAT. he even asked the guy how to be a good dog owner, the same guy went on to say he didn’t believe he and tae were the same species lmao.

moving on to the sad shit

hate

i will never shut up about this. the popular members get hate too. honestly everyone will go on about how the hyung line members get hate (totally fair), but nobody wants to talk about the shit the maknaes have to deal with cause they’re popular. i’ve never seen someone as grossly sexualised as jimin is, i’ve seen many a horror. jk gets so much hate for having a lot of lines, as if it isn’t tiring and stressful for him. and honestly tae just can’t fucking breathe without getting berated for it. here’s a list of things he’s gotten hate for:

-suggesting a movie with a sex scene (which made him stop his film reccs)

-suggesting a song with sexual lyrics

-posting work from his favourite photography which contained nudity

fun fact; taehyung is an a d u l t, what a concept.

-showing yeontan in jin’s vlive

-saying older brothers should care for their little sisters (they said he’s sexist)

-landing an acting role before jin

-winning face of 2017

some jk stans were mad cause jk got more likes on instagram (if you didn’t know the nominees’ pictures were posted on an insta account and people thought they were meant to vote for who they wanted to win.) jk had gotten more votes on his picture so people were mad that tae won, but apparently it’s not the case.

tldr; despite him being the most beautiful creature on this sad earth, it’s not just about visuals and it’s a big deal that he got chosen

general sadness

i’ll say this again. even though everyone thinks tae stans showing concern is twelve year olds trying to stir up drama, we have good reason to do so.

let’s take a moment to talk about stigma, the lyrics are already ambiguous and seemingly sad. this is what he said about it:

"stigma is about hurting. when i started creating it i wanted it to be about being cut over and over again. i wanted army to feel my hurting? in mvs I’m shown as a person who’s hurt, but it hurts so much that i become someone who enjoys that pain.”

and even that one time taehyung started crying when reading his letter to jimin on bon voyage S2, he started crying and talking about jimin being there for him when he was “crying in the bathroom” uhh c h i l d

remember when the members jumped on tae to open up to them? the way they spoke...you can tell he had gone through something and it breaks my heart honestly, but it seems the members are caring for him.

visuals

his visuals have gotten him far and this is just a fact. he must feel like his only significance in the group is being a visual. honestly when members are being acknowledged for things and it comes to him they’ll always say something like ‘thx for not being ugli lol’.

i know this is a thing in kpop i guess but it’s as if he’s just there to look pretty and...growl? and what else? oh yes! be lol so random xd. this really pisses me off cause even in old interviews namjoon would introduce him as ‘the member responsible for 4d charms’ and you’d just see his expression drop immediately.

don’t get me wrong, it’s just a fact that he’s a popular bias cause of his looks, that’s just the way it is and i know it. we as people sub-consciously show bias towards people we find attractive in everyday situations. i’m pretty sure if he weren’t so stunning some people would probably bash him for his ‘alien behaviour’ rather than be like ‘oh ahaha tae-oppa is so cute l o l xd’ or some other cringy shit.

anyway, he has a lot of fans because of his appearance, who probably think they’re the biggest stan just cause they’ve heard stigma like four times. maybe they watch some ‘taehyung extra compilations’ now and then, but they don’t actually know shit about him andng;sd’#;l#fdfd

for those that don’t know, he had originally accompanied a friend to the auditions and had no plans to audition himself. he was spotted by an employee who told him he had to audition because he was so good-looking. his looks definitely got him where he is, i imagine it makes him feel like his only significant feature is the fact that he’s pretty. a lot of people have nothing good to say about him not regarding his looks/behavior.

if you get really deep into it, i think he feels like his visuals are the only reason he’s loved by fans at all. although he doesn’t do it anymore, i’m pretty sure he used to exaggerate his attitude so that people would like him. i know this feeling all too well myself and while i obviously can’t pin point what’s going on in that pretty lil head of his, i think i’ve got an idea. you’re really just ‘weird’ and you try to pass it off as quirky then you’re like ‘oh you like this?’ so you keep acting that way, afraid you’ll stop being interesting. it was brought to my attention that people are actually dropping him cause he’s become more quiet recently :(.

can i ask why? when taehyung is so beautiful inside and out, he’s definitely got flaws we all do, but while he isn’t perfect there’s just something so unique about him. he’s so clever sometimes yet he can have those dumb moments like forgetting what year it is, he seems like he’s just a cutie yet he’s so mysterious and vague. he’s this beautiful mess of self-contradictions and i love him for it, my favourite art hoe. i found a tae personality-analysis here on tumblr and it was an enjoyable read, op says they had a hard time with his mysterious ass haha

now let’s talk about tae being a golden maknae (hear me out!)

i got this comment

hmm i didn’t know that he auditioned as a rapper. [some of the members really came in with little to no experience in their field though, isn’t that impressive?] yeah that’s true, like i’ve said this before but tae is a golden maknae, he can rap okay? it only sounds weird cause we’re not used to it. even in the table room skit they did that freestyle rap and tae was really good, i’ve read that yoongi himself was really impressed with him!!

and he can dance pretty well too um why isn’t he dance line ???

tae’s been underrated since the start, he was even hidden at the start as he was a ‘secret weapon’, for what? surprise surprise; his looks :o i’m pretty sure he knows this, and it all must add more to the probable mixed feelings he has regarding his role in the group.

singing

please talk about his beautiful deep voice, i didn’t even like deep voices until he came around. also let’s appreciate the fact that he came in with no experience and apparently originally auditioned as a rapper?

C R Y S T A L S N O W though I mean oh my god.

my friend once said; ‘i cry every night at taehyung’s wasted potential’ ( @n-uee what’s good?) which is too accurate. i’ve said pretty much all i needed to say on this subject in the previous part. still though acknowledging his high note in stigma isn’t enough, please he is finally not being wasted on growling anymore talk about it

yeah uh finally finished i’ve been dragging this on and editing it for months lmao i’m such a procrastinator. anyway as i said he’s not just a pretty face and there is so much more underneath the surface. i wish tae well and await his next cover!

part 1 , part 2

ofcourse none of these posts are complete without some pictures, so have taehyung with dogs aka my favourite concept in the world:

anyway he’s one of the only good things in my life in this god awful world and i purple him bye.

#taehyung #kth #bts #kim taehyung #ipurpleunet #taehyung icons #taekook #vmin #vhope #taegi #taejin #vmon #bts v #kpop #rant #tae #fave #kth defense squad #kth defense squad leader

506 notes · View notes